917.731 

,, 


BOOK 

OF    TH& 


KORTH  S MORE 


HIGHWAYS  WBWAYS 


PAST  AND  PRESENT 


917.731 
W5&D 


BOOK  of  the  NORTH  SHORE 


BOOK  of  the  NORTH  SHORE 


HOMES,    GARDENS,   LANDSCAPES 

HIGHWAYS  AND  BYWAYS 

PAST  AND  PRESENT 


By  MARIAN  A.  WHITE 
Author  and  Lecturer 


Entrance  and  Bronze  Door,  Residence  of  Mr.  S.  H.  Gunder 


CHICAGO 

J.  HARRISON  WHITE 
1910 


Copyright  1910  by 

J.  Harrison  White 

Chicago 


Engraved  and  Printed 
by  The  Franklin  Company  of  Chicago 


TO  THE 
PATRONS  AND  SUBSCRIBERS 

WHO  HAVE  MADE 
ITS  PRODUCTION  POSSIBLE 

THIS  BOOK 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  BY 
THE  PUBLISHER 


10 


II 


12 


13 


14 


16 


17 


18 


19 


20 


21 


22 


24 


25 


Photo  by  Be 


RESIDENCE  OF  W.  F.  GROSVENOR,  M.D. 
4829  Kenmore  Ave.,  Argyle  Park 


PLATE  No.  20 


Photo  by  Jackso: 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  FRED  A.  ANDERSON 
5022  Kenmore  Ave.,  Argyle  Park 


PLATE  No.  21 


26 


Photo  by  Barker 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  F.  B.  MONTGOMERY 
6143   Kenmore  Ave.,  North  Edgewater 


— „ 


PLATE  No.  22 


Photo  by  Bemm 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  GEO.  N.  MIDDENDORF 
6326  Kenmore  Ave.,  North  Edgewater 


PLATE  No.  23 


27 


28 


29 


30 


31 


Photo  by  Bemni 


PLATE  No.  28 


RESIDENCE  OF  DR.  A.  COSMAS  GARVY 
6000  Sheridan  Road,  Edgewater 


Photo  by  Bemm 


PLATE  No.  29 


RESIDENCE    OF    CAPT.   D.    SULLIVAN 
5746  Sheridan  Road,  Edgewater 


32 


Photo  by  Barker 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  F.  W.  GETTY 
6821  Sheridan  Road,  Rogers  Park 


PLATE  No.  30 


Photo  by  Barke 


PLATE  No.  31 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  ALFRED  DECKER 
6958  Sheridan  Road,  Rogers  Park 


33 


34 


36 


37 


38 


39 


40 


41 


42 


43 


SI 

fl) 

w  I 

Cj    oo 

Z     oo 

Q     " 

oo 
W 

3 


44 


45 


47 


48 


49 


50 


Photo  by  Bemm 


PLATE  No.  49 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  CALLISTUS  S.  ENNIS 
1437  Pratt  Ave.,  Rogers  Park 


51 


UNIVERSITY  Of 
ILLINOIS  LIBRARY 


Photo  by  Barker 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  A.  P.  BRINK 
1427  Bryan  Ave.,  Birchwood 


PLATE  No.  50 


Photo  by  Betnm 


PLATE  No.  51 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  HARRY  E.  ALEXANDER 
1419  Bryan  Ave.,  Birchwood 


52 


Photo  by  Bern 


PLATE  No.  52 


BUNGALOW  OF  MR.  GEORGE  A.  STONE 
1420  Bryan  Ave.,  Birchwood 


Photo  by  Barker 


PLATE  No.  53 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  JAMES  J.  O'MEARA 
1232  Pratt  Ave.,  Rogers  Park 


53 


Photo  by  Bemm 


Landscape  Architect,  A.  Setterberg 


GARDEN  OF  MR.  H.  L.  HOLLISTER'S  RESIDENCE 
1224  Bryan  Ave.,  Birchwood 


PLATE  No.  54 


54 


•s     a 


55 


56 


57 


58 


59 


*?3fv    '  ^.'JfflRS^ 

v,^.,. > *?%•  .*Tu 

•-          •    • 


S!?l**'~ 


60 


Photo  by  Barker 


PLATE  No.  61 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  STEPHEN  L.  WALKER 
1331  Chase  Ave.,  Birchwood 


Photo  by  Barker 


PLATE  No.  62 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  L.  P.  HAMMOND 
1701  Chase  Ave.,  Birchwood 


61 


Photo  by  Barke 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  JOHN  C.  THORN 
7409  Sheridan  Road,  Birchwood 


PLATE  No.  63 


Photo  by  Barker  PLATE  No.  64 

RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  W.  JAEKEL 
6957  Sheridan  Road,  Rogers  Park     ., 

62 


63 


Photo  by  Be 


VIEW  FROM   MR.  E.   D.   MOENG'S  PORCH 
Foot  of  Columbia  Avenue  and  the  Beach,   Rogers  Park 


64 


65 


67 


68 


PLATE  No.  71 


VIEWS  IN  EVANSTON.  ILL. 


69 


70 


71 


Photo  by  Fowler 


RESIDENCE    OF  MR.  WALTER  M.  POND 
1117  Forest  Ave.,  Evanston,  111. 


PLATE  No.  74 


Photo  by  Fowler 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  F.  H.  BRUNELL 
2681  Sheridan  Road,  Evanston,  111. 


72 


73 


74 


75 


Photo  by  Fowler 


RESIDENCE  OF  DR.  RUFUS  B.  STOLP 
Kenilworth.  111. 


PLATE  No.  79 


Photo  by  Fowle 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  LOUIS  T.  WILSON 
Kenilworth.  111. 


PLATE  No.  80 


76 


Photo  by  Fowler 


RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  W.  L.  SERRELL 
Kenilworth,  111. 


PLATE  No.  81 


PLATE  No.  82 


A  PIONEER  RESIDENCE 


77 


78 


79 


80 


82 


Photo  by  Fuermann 


PLATE  No. 

LOGGIA  OF  RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  FREDERICK  MORGAN  STEELE 
Highland  Park,  111. 


83 


84 


Photo  by  Bemm  PLATE  No.  90 

"CONTENT,"  RESIDENCE  OF  MR.  AND  MRS.  BENJ.  A.  FESSENDEN 
Circle  Ave.,  Highland  Park,  111. 


Photo  by  Bemm  PLATE  No.  91 

"OAKLANDS,"  HOMESTEAD  OF  THE  PUBLISHER  (1888-1893) 

(Built  in  1876) 

Ravinia,  111. 


85 


Bronze  Tablet  on  Walljof  Entrance  to  Mr.  E.  D.  Moene's  Residence,  Rogers  Park 


Highways  and  Byways 
Past  and  Present 


iMERICA  holds  the  future."     So  said  Matthew  Arnold  about  the  time   when 
Chicago,    ravaged    by  flame,  contemplated  the  ruin  of  that  which  had  been 
evolved   from  the  hunting  grounds  and  tepees  of  the  Red  Man,  and  of  which 
she  had  been  justly  proud.  A  momentary  pang  of  anguish,  a  throb  of  despair, 
and  the  afflicted   city,  in  which  the  true  pioneer  enterprise  had  been  a  tower 
of  strength  from  its  earliest  inception,  asserted  itself  with  redoubled  might,  and 
over  a  new  trail  in  its  cinereous  highways  the  waters  of  Lake  Michigan,  above 
which  still  hung  a  pall  of  suffocating  smoke,  caught  the  resolve"!  Will!"  while 
the  winds  eagerly  took  up  the  refrain,  and  joyously  bore  the  bewitching  lay  to 
a  sympathizing  yet  wonder-stricken  world. 

The  ethical  student  and  writer,  quoted  at  the  beginning  of  the  preceding  para- 
graph, probably  had  no  thought  of  the  then  unfortunate  city  in  the  far-away,  fair 
State  of  Illinois,  yet  the  prophetic  words  were  of  great  significance,  for  through  the 
portal  of  Chicago,  even  at  that  time,  a  larger  America  was  in  process  of  evolution, 
while  today  it  is  developing  resources  that  will  ultimately  enrich  and  sustain  one 
of  the  largest  populations  the  world  has  known.  In  order  to  more  intelligently 
comprehend  the  present,  it  will  be  well  to  bear  in  mind  the  settlement  of  com- 
munities and  the  making  of  cities  in  America,  as  gleaned  from  historical  data,  at 
a  time  when  the  thought  of  such  a  city  as  the  present  Chicago  was  as  remote  as 
the  fabulous  castle  in  the  air. 

In  1607,  the  English  were  at  Jamestown,  Virginia;  the  French  in  Quebec,  in 
1612;  while  the  Dutch  had  found  their  way  to  Manhattan  Island,  in  1614,  and,  rear- 
ing a  few  fisher  huts  for  the  purpose  of  shelter,  evolved  the  present  site  of  New  York 
City.  In  1620,  the  Puritans  were  at  Plymouth;  and  fourteen  years  later,  while 
Massachusetts  is  founding  a  representative  government,  making  treaties  with  the 
Indians  and  establishing  friendly  relations  with  individual  colonies,  a  frail  birch- 
bark  canoe  is  gliding  through  the  neck  of  water,  connecting  Lake  Huron  with  Lake 
Michigan;  and  the  lovely  white  cliffs  of  Mackinac,  crested  with  sweet-scented  pine, 
gave  silent  welcome  to  the  first  pale  face.  They  had  long — no  one  knows  how  long — 
been  familiar  with  copper-colored  visages,  similar  to  those  of  the  seven  lithesome 
paddlers,  whose  regular,  skillful  toying  stroke  bore  the  canoe,  in  which  sat  Jean 


87 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


Nicolet,  alert  and  observant  from  sixteen  years  of  frontier  life,  into  the  newly 
discovered  Lac  des  Ilinese — now  Lake  Michigan.  This  body  of  sparkling  water 
seemed,  to  the  explorer,  to  reach  into  illimitable  distance,  while  the  Indians,  familiar, 
perhaps,  with  its  varying  moods,  kept  the  canoe  near  the  shore  line,  reaching  Puan 
(Green)  Bay  and  the  Fox  River  in  safety.  Our  particular  story  has  nothing  more 
to  do  with  Jean  Nicolet's  further  explorations,  except  that  on  his  return  to  civiliza- 
tion he  created  a  desire  in  the  minds  of  the  adventurous  spirits  of  New  France  to 
explore  for  the  sake  of  wealth  and  acquisition  of  territory;  while  the  Jesuits,  for  this 
religious  Order  had  come  from  France  to  Canada,  in  1625,  were  more  zealous  than 
ever  in  their  efforts  to  promote  Christianity  among  the  aborigines. 

So  ever  following  in  the  wake  of  explorer,  and  not  infrequently,  taking  the 
initiative  of  exploration  upon  himself,  came  the  Jesuit  priest,  and  he  who  has  gone 
down  in  the  annals  of  his  church  as  the  "Martyr  Jogues,"  was  the  first  to  carry  the 
message  of  the  Cross  to  the  Sault  Indians.  Beyond  the  Sault,  and  into  that  region 
now  designated  the  "Northwest,"  and  to  which  Chicago  has  been,  to  a  large  extent, 
and  is  still,  a  portal,  nothing  was  known  until  the  explorations  of  the  fearless  and 
indefatigable  Radison  and  Groseillier  in  1659-60.  And  in  1674,  Marquette  is  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Portage  (Chicago)  River! 

Geologists  assure  us  that  far  back  in  the  ages,  of  which  we  have  no  record, 
the  western  shore  of  Lake  Michigan  was  not  always  confined  within  its  present 
boundary.  The  water  was  some  miles  inland,  and  that  the  Lake  began  to  trend 
westward,  at  what  is  now  known  as  Winnetka,  lapping  the  shore  line  of  the  long, 
southwestern  slope  which  starts  in  the  suburb  of  Wilmette.  As  the  Lake  receded 
from  this  ancient  shore  line  it  left,  as  an  authority  asserts,  "one  slender  two- toed 
footprint,  a  rivulet  with  two  branches.  The  north  branch,  coming  in  at  the  Skokie, 
preserved  a  southward  course,  nearly  parallel  with  the  deserted  shore  line;  while 
a  south  branch,  with  various  creeping  affluents,  started  northward  from  the  aban- 
doned divide,  and  met  the  other  half  way;  after  which  the  two  made  eastward  to 
find  the  parent  body,  the  Lake." 

Archaeologists  also  affirm  the  existence  of  another  race  before  the  coming  of 
the  Red  Man,  which  lived  in  a  higher  state  of  civilization  than  the  latter.  The 
same  authorities  assume  that  this  higher  civilization  was  either  driven  out  or  exter- 
minated by  the  Indians.  The  earth,  in  the  locality  in  question,  has  yielded  up  suffi- 
cient evidence  that  there  existed  such  a  people,  and,  from  these  antiquities,  the 
dwellers  upon  the  western  shore  of  Lake  Michigan  are  becoming  cognizant  of  the 
fact,  that  tradition  and  legendary  lore,  those  features  of  antiquity  upon  which  older 
nations  are  wont  to  pride  themselves,  and  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  necessary 
inspiration  toward  patriotism  and  an  art  National,  is  being  unearthed  and  presented 
in  due  form  for  historical  and  poetical  purposes. 

The  landmarks  of  the  Indian  are  more  easily  traced,  although  much  of  historic 
import,  that  should  have  been  preserved,  is  scattered,  and,  in  many  instances,  utterly 
destroyed.  The  coming  of  the  white  man  was  as  a  swift,  overwhelming  tide,  to 
which  the  Red  Man  had  to  yield.  Yet  has  he  an  important  significance — even  if 
his  origin  still  continue  to  be  a  matter  of  ethnological  tangle — in  American  history, 
for  it  cannot  be  complete  without  him.  The  first  explorers  and  the  early  religious 
teachers  found  him,  not  what  he  is  today — a  mere  apology  for  the  noble  Red,  who 
roamed  the  country  while  in  its  primitive,  wilderness  beauty.  Longfellow's 
"Hiawatha"  is  not  entirely  fiction  in  the  guise  of  imaginative  embellishment  by 
a  poet;  neither  is  the  noble  "Chactas"  of  Chateaubriand's  beautiful  imagery  alto- 
gether a  fanciful  personality!  For  if  the  mind  be  free  from  prejudice,  it  may  glean 
from  the  writings  of  the  early  students  of  Indian  character,  that  which  cannot  help 
but  resolve  itself  into  a  more  appreciative  understanding  of  the  merits  of  a  people 
that  were  compelled  to  submit,  after  more  than  two  centuries  of  hostilities,  in  which 
loss  of  life,  and  destruction  of  property,  played  a  conspicuous  part.  Foot  by  foot, 
almost  inch  by  inch,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  the  Red  Man  fought  desper- 
ately against  the  white  invader,  and  finally  yielded  in  the  desert  country,  "for  the 
sake" — to  use  the  words  of  the  noble  Chief  Joseph — "of  our  women  and  children." 
It  was  the  inevitable  outcome  of  a  contest  waged  in  the  interests  of  civilization, 
but  it  was,  nevertheless,  a  cruel  one;  and  a  sigh  of  relief,  not  unmixed  with  pity  for 
their  fate,  went  through  the  land,  when  it  was  learned  that  the  Indian  war  was  at 
an  end,  and  the  survivors  among  the  Reds  were  to  be  corralled  into  Reservations, 
and  their  children  educated. 

8883 

When  the  French  explorers,  Jesuit  priests,  Re'collet  friars,  trappers,  hunters 
and  voyageurs  first  pushed  their  way  through  the  country  of  prairie  and  timber- 
land,  of  which  Chicago  and  its  North  Shore  is  a  small  but  important  section,  there 


88 


HIGHWAYS        AND        BYWAYS     —     PAST        AND        PRESENT 

were  representatives  of  three  great  Indian  families  occupying  the  Northwest — the 
Sioux,  the  Algonquin,  and  the  Iroquois  families.  Of  these,  the  Algonquins  fur- 
nished to  Illinois  the  following  tribes:  the  Illini,  Kickapoo,  Ottawas,  Pottawattomi, 
and  Sac  and  Fox.  All  these  tribes  believed  in  a  Great  Spirit,  as  well  as  in  a  coming 
deliverer,  the  latter  to  be  heralded  by  signs  and  wonders.  Their  feasts  and  dances, 
ceremonies  and  orgies,  have  now  become  incorporated  in  the  military  annals  of 
our  frontier  life,  since  most  of  these  celebrations  led  to  some  breach  of  the  law, 
established  under  military  direction  to  keep  peace  between  the  natives  and  the 
early  settlers. 

The  Indian  mind  is  given  to  associate  everything  in  Nature  with  the  presence 
of  the  Great  Spirit.  Mountains,  waterfalls,  lakes  and  rivers,  particularly  if  they 
be  of  undue  magnitude  and  power,  were  sacred  to  the  same  Great  Spirit,  whom  they 
generally  designated  "Manitou."  The  clouds,  thunder,  lightning,  rain  and  wind 
were  thought  to  be  expressions  of  minor  spirits  under  the  direction  of  the  Great 
Spirit.  Among  the  different  tribes  are  any  number  of  legends,  handed  down  by 
word  of  mouth  for  generations.  Most  of  the  Indian  tribes  retain  a  legend  of  a 
mystical  bird,  said  to  come  only  in  the  summer  evenings,  at  the  time  of  full  moon, 
to  sing,  in  the  nearest  grove  to  their  wigwams,  lays  of  the  spirit  land  in  which  are 
conveyed  tidings  from  the  loved  dead.  As  the  history  of  Chicago  and  the  North 
Shore  seems  to  be  more  closely  affiliated  with  the  Pottawattomies,  or  "canoe-men" — 
so  designated  by  the  Illini  and  the  Miamis,  whom  they  had  driven  from  the  vicinity 
of  Chicago,  before  the  dawn  of  the  eighteenth  century — it  may  not  be  out  of  place 
to  note  the  legend  connected  with  the  origin  of  this  particular  tribe,  as  well  as  their 
mode  of  addressing  the  Great  Spirit,  at  their  Thanksgiving  feast. 

The  Pottawattomies  believed  in  two  spirits,  symbolizing  good  and  evil.  The 
first,  addressed  as  Kitchemanito,  meaning  Great  Spirit,  and  the  second,  as  Matche- 
manito,  or  the  Evil  Spirit.  Kitchemanito,  according  to  this  legend,  first  created 
the  world,  filling  it  with  a  class  of  beings,  who  only  bore  the  appearance  of  men, 
but  who  were,  practically,  perverse,  ungrateful,  wicked  dogs,  who  never  raised  their 
eyes  from  the  earth  to  thank  the  Great  Spirit  for  anything.  For  this  base  conduct 
they  were  plunged,  with  the  world  itself,  into  a  great  lake,  and  all  were  drowned. 

Then  Kitchemanito  withdrew  the  earth  from  the  water,  and  made  a  man — a 
man  good  to  look  upon  and  youthful.  But  he  became  lonesome,  and,  at  last  so  sad, 
that  Kitchemanito  exhibited  his  pity,  by  sending  to  him  a  sister  to  cheer  him.  After 
awhile,  the  young  man  had  a  dream,  which  he  revealed  to  his  sister:  "Five  young 
men,"  said  he,  "will  come  to  your  wigwam  door,  tonight,  to  visit  you.  The  Great 
Spirit  forbids  you  to  answer,  or  even  to  look  up  and  smile  at  either  of  the  first  four. 
But,  when  the  fifth  comes,  you  may  speak  and  laugh,  to  prove  that  you  are  pleased." 

The  sister  followed  the  instructions  given,  and  when  Usama  (tobacco),  who 
was  the  first  to  call,  came  to  her  lodge,  she  repulsed  him,  and  he  fell  dead.  The 
second  was  Wapako  (pumpkin);  the  third,  Eshkossimin  (melon),  and  the  fourth, 
Kokees  (the  bean);  but  they  each  met  the  same  fate  as  Usama.  When  Damin,  or 
Mondamin,  which  signifies  maize,  presented  himself,  she  drew  aside  the  skin  of 
tapestry  guarding  the  entrance  to  her  wigwam,  laughed  merrily,  and  extended  to 
him  a  friendly  greeting.  They  were  married,  and  from  this  union  originated  the 
Indian.  Damin,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  disposed  of  the  bodies  of  his  rivals  by  putting 
them  under  the  earth.  From  their  graves,  in  due  course,  sprang  tobacco,  melons 
of  all  kinds,  including  the  squashes,  and  beans.  Thus  Kitchemanito  gave  to  the 
race  which  he  had  created,  that  which  should  provide  a  variety  of  vegetable  food 
with  the  meat  they  cooked  in  their  akecks,  or  kettles,  as  well  as  providing  sufficient 
for  offerings  to  himself  in  their  feasts  and  ceremonies. 

The  Pottawattomies'  thanksgiving  contains  a  charm  of  poetry  and  sentiment 
that  is  delightfully  interesting,  inasmuch  as  it  is  similar  in  its  thought  to  many  of 
the  Psalms,  and,  in  construction,  resembles  the  canticles  in  use  in  both  the  Roman 
Catholic  and  Episcopal  churches.  We  have  to  picture  the  Pottawattomies  in  their 
primitive  environment — the  lovely  prairie-lands  stretching  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  and  the  shadowy  forest  growth  untouched  by  woodman's  axe;  the  rivers  and 
streams  gleaming  like  threads  of  silver,  and  the  Lake,  always  varying  in  mood  and 
color,  reaching  far,  far  away,  bounded  as  it  seemed  by  no  distant  shore  line — before 
we  can  intelligently  enter  into  the  depths  of  emotion  of  which  he  was  capable,  in 
giving  voice  to: 

"We  return  thanks  to  our  Mother,  the  Earth,  which  sustains  us.  We  return 
thanks  to  the  rivers  and  streams,  which  supply  us  with  water.  We  return  thanks 
to  all  herbs  which  furnish  medicine  for  the  cure  of  our  diseases.  We  return  thanks 
to  the  corn  and  her  sisters,  the  beans  and  squashes,  which  give  us  life.  We  return 
thanks  to  the  wind,  which,  moving  the  air,  has  banished  diseases.  We  return  thanks 
to  the  moon  and  stars,  which  have  given  to  us  their  light  when  the  sun  was  gone. 


89 


90 


HIGHWAYS        AND        BYWAYS     —     PAST       AND         PRESENT 

We  return  thanks  to  our  grandfather,  Heno,  that  he  has  protected  his  children  from 
witches  and  reptiles  and  given  us  his  rain.  We  give  thanks  to  the  sun,  that  he  has 
looked  upon  the  earth  with  a  beneficent  eye.  We  return  thanks  to  the  Great  Spirit 
in  whom  is  embodied  all  goodness  and  who  directs  all  things  for  the  good  of  his 
children." 

g         3         3         8 

For  some  five  years,  previous  to  June  18,  1673,  Pe"re  Jacques  Marquette  had 
been  engaged  in  missionary  work  among  the  Indians  of  the  Upper  Lakes'  region. 
On  the  date  in  question,  however,  the  good  father  is  found  in  the  companionship 
of  Louis  Joliet  and  four  Canadian  voyageurs,  descending  the  Mississippi  in  two  frail 
birch-bark  canoes.  Joliet  had  been  specially  chosen  by  those  of  authority  in  New 
France  to  accompany  Marquette  in  his  mission  to  the  aborigines  west  of  the  Green 
Bay  country.  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  give  the  narrative  of  their  voyage  adown 
the  Great  Unknown  River,  except  in  so  far  as  it  is  of  vital  interest  to  our  particular 
subject.  Here  were  two  men,  totally  dissimilar,  yet  both  courageous  and  ambitious, 
drawn  closely  together  in  profound  admiration  for  the  marvelous  works  of  Nature 
seen  in  the  region,  until  then  unknown  to  the  white  man.  Both  like  the  stalwart 
voyageurs  manipulating  the  paddles,  are  accustomed  to  the  hardships  of  early 
frontier  life. 

Pe"re  Marquette,  burning  with  religious  fervor  and  zeal,  was  ever  on  the  look- 
out for  savages  to  be  instructed  and  converted;  Joliet,  with  an  explorer's  keen  power 
of  observation,  and  with  the  hunter's  and  trapper's  experience,  appreciated  the  vast 
stretches  of  silent  prairie  and  dense  forest  growth  haunted  by  game  and  suggestive 
of  valuable  acquisitions  of  fur  and  peltries,  was  not  anxious,  except  for  the  sake 
of  information,  to  meet  the  natives  of  the  country  through  which  they  were  now 
passing.  But,  after  some  ten  days  of  travel,  imprints  of  a  human  foot  were  visible 
in  the  soft  mud  of  the  river  bank,  and  Marquette  and  Joliet  resolved  to  leave  their 
canoes  in  charge  of  their  engages,  and  follow  the  deeply  indented  trail  to  which  the 
footsteps  trended.  On,  into  the  heart  of  the  majestic  forest,  they  urged  their  way, 
coming  at  last  to  an  Indian  village,  and  creating,  as  might  be  supposed,  no  end  of 
excitement  among  the  natives,  as,  stepping  into  the  open,  priest  and  explorer  waved 
their  hands  in  token  of  peace. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Marquette  in  the  soft  musical  voice  with  which  he  had 
invested  the  Algonquin  language,  and  of  which  he  was  a  master.  And  the  three 
Indians  who  had  advanced  to  meet  him,  answered,  in  the  same  tongue: 

"We  are  Illini,"  the  latter  word  simply  signifying  "men."  And  they  offered 
the  peace  pipe  to  the  two  pale  faces  who  had  so  unceremoniously  invaded  their 
domain.  "We  are  Illini,"  or  "men;"  as  if  this  gentler  tribe  had  desired  to  intimate, 
by  so  dignified  an  answer;  "Do  not  fear  us,  for  we  are,  as  you  are,  men."  So  being 
persuaded,  Marquette  and  Joliet  spent  the  remainder  of  that  day  and  the  night, 
in  the  village,  feasted  by  the  tribe  and  gaining  information  of  value  regarding  the 
surrounding  tribes.  The  day  following,  Marquette  told  them  the  story  of  the  Cross 
in  the  Algonquin  language.  At  the  close  of  his  impassioned  appeal,  the  chief  of 
the  tribe  rose,  and  addressing  the  good  father,  said: 

"I  thank  you,  Black  Robe  (the  usual  Indian  appellation  for  the  Jesuit  mis- 
sionaries), and  you,  Frenchman,"  addressing  Joliet,  "for  taking  so  much  trouble 
to  come  and  visit  us.  Never  has  the  earth  appeared  so  beautiful,  nor  the  sun  so 
brilliant,  as  today."  Then,  placing  his  hand  on  the  head  of  a  little  Indian  boy,  whom 
he  was  about  to  present  to  them,  the  chief  continued: 

"Here  is  my  son,  whom  I  give  to  you  to  show  you  my  heart.  I  pray  you  have 
pity  upon  me  and  my  nation.  It  is  you,  who  know  the  Great  Spirit  who  made  us 
all.  It  is  you  who  speak  to  Him  and  know  His  word.  Ask  Him  to  give  us  life  and 
health,  and  come  live  with  us  and  show  Him  to  us."  Such  were  the  Illini,  after 
whom  our  State  is  named,  when  first  approached  by  the  white  man. 

Escorted  to  their  canoes  by  several  hundred  savages  in  picturesque  array,  who 
lined  the  river  bank  until  Marquette  and  his  party  had  passed  from  sight,  priest 
and  explorer  passed  into  the  stretch  of  country  which  knew  not  the  pale  face.  South- 
ward they  were  borne,  as  far  as  the  Arkansas;  then  began  the  return  journey,  in  the 
overpowering  heat  of  midsummer,  and  in  a  country  infested  with  mosquitoes,  and 
haunted  by  malarious  emanations,  as  well  as  by  unfriendly  Indians.  The  latter 
were  invariably  appeased  by  the  gentle,  kindly  voice  of  the  Jesuit,  whose  delicate 
and  careworn  visage,  and  gaunt  form — shielded  yet  defined  by  the  now  frayed  and 
travel-stained  robe  of  his  Order — together  with  the  quick  movement  of  the  nervous 
fingers  over  the  rosary,  and  that,  to  the  Indian,  mysterious  insignia  depending  from 
the  girdle,  seemed  to  make  an  appeal  to  the  inner  consciousness,  transforming  the 
savage  nature  into  something  more  typical  of  manhood. 


92 


PLATE  No.  96 


MAIN  VESTIBULE,  LOYOLA  ACADEMY 


93 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


The  voyageurs  are  now  stemming  the  current  on  the  northward  journey,  but 
the  good  Pere  Marquette,  never  of  robust  constitution,  lies  prone  in  his  canoe,  a 
victim  of  the  unhealthful  exhalations  of  marsh  and  swamp.  With  a  skillful  sweep 
of  the  paddles,  and  a  sigh  of  relief  on  the  part  of  all,  the  canoes  are  now  gliding  over 
the  more  placid  waters  of  the  Illinois  River  and  among  natives  who  are  friendly  dis- 
posed. Delay  is  not  to  be  thought  of,  however,  and,  after  Marquette's  assurance 
of  a  speedy  return,  the  explorers,  accompanied  by  a  chief  and  several  young  warriors, 
push  their  way  from  the  Illinois  into  the  Des  Plaines,  making  portage  to  the  Chicago 
River.  Thus  they  reached  Lake  Michigan. 

Hugging  closely  the  western  shore,  for  it  is  the  fall  season,  and  its  chill  is  in 
the  atmosphere,  they  ultimately  reach  Green  Bay,  after  an  absence  of  four  months, 
during  which  time  they  had  covered  a  distance  of  some  three  thousand  miles,  by 
canoe  and  portage.  Joliet  went  on  to  Sault  Ste.  Marie,  and  from  thence  to  Mon- 
treal, while  Marquette,  sick  almost  unto  death,  remained  at  the  wretched  mission 
of  St.  Francois  Xavier,  suffering  all  through  the  winter,  but  gaining  strength  little 
by  little  during  the  following  summer.  It  is  now  autumn,  and  the  consuming 
desire  to  be  up  and  doing  forced  this  heroic  missionary  to  set  about  keeping  his 
promise  to  the  Illinois  Indians.  So  on  October  25,  1674,  he  set  forth  with  two 
engages  along  the  east  shore  of  Green  Bay.  They  were  joined  by  a  band  of  Potta- 
wattomies  in  five  canoes,  and  a  few  Illinois  Indians  occupying  four  canoes.  All 
begged  to  accompany  the  solitary  canoe.  The  Indians  were  familiar  with  the  route; 
Marquette  had  been  over  it  once.  At  the  head  of  Sturgeon  Cove,  portage  was  made 
to  Lake  Michigan.  October  had  now  given  place  to  November,  and  the  Lake  was 
swept  by  storm.  They  kept  within  shelter  of  the  shore  and  we  find  Marquette 
recording,  on  November  20,  "We  slep^t  at  the  bluffs,  cabined  poorly  enough."  It 
is  supposed  that  this  site  is  in  the  vicinity  of  Lake  Bluff,  thirty  miles  north  of  Chicago . 

About  December  first,  the  little  company  is  again  camped  for  the  night  "about 
five  leagues  from  the  Chicagou,"  which,  in  today's  reckoning,  brings  the  site  about 
fifteen  miles  from  Chicago,  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  lighthouse  at  Evanston. 
The  fourth  of  the  same  month  they  have  reached  the  Chicago  River.  It  is  now  winter  in 
earnest,  and  the  frail  canoes,  tossed  and  buffeted  by  wind  and  wave,  before  entering 
the  river,  are  now,  with  great  difficulty,  urged  through  the  already  congealing  stream. 

Reaching  what  is  now  known  as  the  South  Branch,  Marquette  was  seized  by 
a  severe  hemorrhage,  and  the  faithful  engage's,  realizing  that  further  progress  would 
be  impossible,  built  a  rude  hut  for  shelter;  and,  eight  days  later,  Marquette  records 
that  buffalo,  deer  and  turkeys  were  hunted  with  success.  Kindly  disposed  Indians 
journeyed  some  two  leagues  in  order  to  bring  cornmeal  to  the  suffering  Black  Robe. 
Miles  northward  were  two  French  traders,  one  of  whom  was  skilled  as  a  surgeon. 
They  also  came  to  Marquette  with  supplies,  doing  all  in  their  power  to  alleviate  his 
sufferings.  One  can  hardly  imagine  anything  more  forlorn  and  wretched  than  the 
environment  of  this  gentle,  patient  missionary.  He  bore  all  with  remarkable  forti- 
tude, and,  in  fact,  the  Relations  teem  with  records  of  these  early  Jesuit  missionaries — 
to  whom  we  owe  much — of  absolute  abnegation  of  self. 

Two  centuries  and  some  odd  years  have  passed  since  Marquette  wintered  on 
the  original  site  of  Chicago,  in  a  wilderness  of  prairie  and  woodland,  unobstructed 
waterways  and  far-reaching  vistas  of  the  lovely  body  of  water,  yet  unnamed,  and 
the  extent  of  which  was  barely  realized.  Lying  in  his  primitive  hut,  his  thoughts 
dwelling  upon  spiritual  rather  than  upon  temporal  affairs,  no  vision  ot  what  was 
to  evolve  from  this  desolate,  dreary  site  distracted  his  meditations.  It  was  not 
possible  to  conceive,  even  in  the  two  hundred  and  thirty-six  years  that  were  to  elapse, 
of  a  metropolis  teeming  with  industrial  ingeniousness,  and  throbbing  with  a  popula- 
tion of  over  two  millions,  such  as  Chicago  presents  today! 

Did  Marquette's  sight  embrace  the  woodland  shores  and  its  gentle  undulations 
just  north  of  what  is  now  Devon  Avenue?  The  bronzed  leaves  would  still  be  cling- 
ing to  the  oaks,  while  between  might  be  caught  glimpses  of  a  fair  and  promising 
site,  which  is  now  occupied  by  Loyola  Academy,  a  very  handsome  structure  stand- 
ing on  a  natural  terrace,  and  the  first  of  a  group  of  buildings  to  be  known  as  the 
Loyola  University.  This  would  be  a  fitting  site  for  a  memorial  to  Marquette  either 
in  form  of  a  tablet  in  one  of  the  buildings,  or,  still  better,  a  statue  of  heroic  propor- 
tions on  its  campus.  For  it  is  reasonable  to  assume,  that  this  gentle  missionary  of 
the  Cross,  in  his  desire  to  meet  the  Indians,  concentrated  his  vision  on  the  shores, 
and,  therefore,  the  present  site,  now  occupied  by  the  religious  Order  of  which  he  was 
a  zealous  and  devoted  brother,  should  prove  a  suitable  locality  in  which  his  memory 
may  be  perpetuated.  S  3  3  ?> 

One  invariably  feels  chilly,  even  in  an  imaginative  journey  with  either  or  with 
all  of  these  self-sacrificing  missionaries,  along  our  North  Shore.  There  was  the 


94 


HIGHWAYS 


AND 


BYWAYS   —   PAST 


AND 


PRESENT 


good  Father  Allouez,  the  worthy  successor  of  Marquette,  who,  with  his  companions, 
struggled  with  the  ice-floes  in  this  same  region,  in  the  winter  of  1676  and  1677,  drag- 
ging their  canoes  over  the  snow-bound  byways,  for  many  a  dreary  mile,  on  their 
way  to  the  Illinois  Indians.  But  it  was  early  spring  when  they  entered  the  mouth 
of  the  Chicago  River,  so,  perchance,  the  forest-crested  bluffs,  of  what  is  now  Evanston, 
as  well  as  the  woodland  dunes  of  our  present  Rogers  Park  and  Edgewater,  greeted 
the  tempest-tossed  missionary  and  his  two  boatmen  with  budding  leaf  and  burgeon- 
ing blossom,  sending  them  on  their  way  with  Nature's  benediction  and  with  cheeri- 
ness  in  their  souls. 


PLATE  No.  97 
FROM  AN  EARLY  PORTRAIT  OF  LA  SALLE 


The  first  pretentious  vessel  sailing  the  waters  of  Lake  Michigan  was  the  Griffin, 
constructed  by  La  Salle  on  the  upper  Niagara,  and  manned  and  equipped  by  this 
indefatigable  and  fearless  explorer,  whose  name  is  written  large  in  the  annals  of 
our  State.  The  Griffin,  with  a  crew  of  thirty-four  sailors  and  laborers,  also  carried 
a  company  of  fur  traders  and  others  to  assist  La  Salle  in  his  land  explorations.  Reach- 
ing Green  Bay,  its  cargo,  consisting  principally  of  parts  of  a  like  vessel  to  be  built 
later,  was  discharged;  then  it  was  reladen  with  furs  and  despatched  eastward,  with 
injunctions  to  return  as  soon  as  possible  with  supplies.  Authorities  differ  as  to  the 
size  of  the  Griffin,  some  claiming  forty-five  and  others  sixty  tons  of  burden.  Be 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


this  as  it  may,  it  was  a  noble  and  daring  forerunner  of  the  white-winged  craft,  that 
was  later  to  brave  the  storms  of  old  Lake  Michigan  and  pile  upon  the  docks  of  Chicago, 
as  well  as  to  bear  therefrom  that  which  meant  riches  and  prosperity  to  the  rapidly 
developing  city.  But  the  winds  and  waves  of  Lake  Michigan  were  not  friendly  to 
the  first  "white  wings"  skimming  its  surface.  Poor  little  phantom-ship!  No  one 
knows  where  she  foundered,  except  that  it  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  upper  waters 
of  the  Lake.  Not  a  vestige  of  vessel,  valuable  cargo,  nor  of  brave  crew  was  ever 
found ! 

La  Salle,  after  despatching  the  Griffin  and  cherishing  the  bright  hope  of  its 
speedy  return,  with  his  companions  embarked  on  a  fleet  of  four  canoes,  the  prows 
of  which  were  turned  southward,  having  the  St.  Joseph  River  in  view  as  ultimate 
destination.  It  is  a  motley  company,  crowded  together  with  tools,  merchandise 
and  arms,  in  so  small  a  compass.  Let  us  take  a  peep  at  them,  as  they  pass  in  review 
before  the  silent  witnesses  of  bluff  and  forest,  dune  and  woodland,  constituting  what 
is  now  designated  the  "North  Shore." 

There  is  the  leader,  a  young  man  of  thirty-four  years.  Born  in  France,  of 
wealthy  parentage,  an  earnest  Catholic  educated  by  the  Jesuits,  La  Salle  had,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-three,  crossed  the  ocean  to  the  land  of  adventure.  Aflame  with 
enthusiasm  to  explore  the  wilderness  lying  beyond  the  frontier  of  New  France,  he 
sacrificed  everything  to  ambition  for  his  country's  further  aggrandizement.  Loyal, 
brave,  and  undaunted  by  that  which  would  have  utterly  crushed  a  weaker  nature, 
La  Salle's  tragic  fate,' in  less  than  ten  years  after  our  "North  Shore"  had  witnessed 
his  presence  upon  the  stormy  waters — it  seems  that  Lake  Michigan  delighted  in 
showing  off  on  these  particular  occasions — is  lamentable.  "Never,"  writes  Park- 
man,  "under  the  impenetrable  mail  of  paladin  or  crusader  beat  a  heart  ot  more 
intrepid  metal.  America  owes  him  an  enduring  memory." 

In  this  company  are  three  Recollet  friars,  priests  of  the  gray  robe.  Then  there 
are  ten  Canadian  voyageurs,  those  daring,  fearless,  reckless,  wiry  individuals,  who 
invariably  plied  their  paddles  to  the  tune  of  a  merry  chanson,  brightening  the  way 
and  bringing  cheeriness  out  of  gloom.  They  also  were  experts  with  the  gun,  and 
could  vary  the  gleam  of  the  paddle  with  the  bark  of  firearms  at  will.  A  solitary 
Mohegan  Indian,  La  Salle's  faithful  servant,  added  picturesqueness  to  the  party. 

It  was  in  October,  1679,  that  La  Salle  first  set  foot  on  Illinois  soil.  A  heavy 
east  wind  had  lashed  the  Lake  into  a  fury — no  worse  than  that  which  is  familiar 
to  us  of  today;  but  imagine  the  frail  cockleshells,  such  as  the  canoes  of  that  day, 
being  at  the  mercy  of  old  Lake  Michigan  when  on  such  a  rampage!  By  the  limited 
knowledge  that  comes  to  us,  we  might  say  that  La  Salle  was  practically  hurled  upon 
the  beach — exactly  where  is  not  known;  said  to  be  somewhere  on  the  southern 
boundary  of  Lake  County,  and  among  unfriendly  Indians,  who  came  upon  them 
during  the  night  and  stole  some  of  their  very  limited  supplies,  at  the  same  time 
pretending  friendship.  La  Salle  "pushed  resolutely  on,  passing  the  mouth  of  the 
Chicago,  and  skirting  the  sand  dunes"  at  the  south  end  of  the  Lake,  ultimately 
reaching  the  entrance  to  the  St.  Joseph  River. 

It  is  New  Year's  Day,  1682,  and  La  Salle,  with  his  devoted  Tonty  and  faithful 
Membre',  and  the  entire  company — numbering  fifty-four  in  all — for  the  exploration 
of  the  Mississippi,  is  camping  upon  the  present  site  of  Chicago.  Crossing  the  Lake 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Saint  Joseph  River,  they  found  all  the  small  streams  frozen. 
So,  strapping  the  canoes  on  rudely  constructed  sleds,  for  miles  and  miles  they  dragged 
them  over  the  slippery  surface,  until  open  water  was  reached  below  Lake  Peoria. 

8888 

The  name  Chicago  is  said  to  be  derived  from  "kago"  signifying  "something;" 
and  "Chi"  from  "git-chie,"  meaning  "great."  It  has  been  variously  spelled, 
Chikagu,  Chikagou,  Chicaqw  and  Chicaqu,  the  latter  being  synonymous  with 
Chicaque,  or  Chicaqua,  which  was  the  name  borne  by  a  long  line  of  Illinois  chiefs, 
and,  thus  applied,  would  signify  "great"  or  "powerful."  However,  the  name  applied 
by  the  Indian  himself,  signifying  "wild  onion"  or  "skunkweed,"  being  generally 
accepted,  we  can  better  appreciate  the  suggestion  of  an  early  writer  upon  this 
subject,  who  proposed  that  "Chicago  forestall  criticism  by  adopting  the  'Chicagou' 
(wild  onion)  from  root  to  flower  as  its  civic  emblem,  'gare  a  louche.'  Touch  it  who  dare! " 

8888 

In  1773,  William  Murray,  a  British  subject,  residing  at  Kaskaskia,  induced  the 
Indians  to  part  with  the  land  upon  which  Chicago  now  stands,  as  well  as  all  the 
land  west  of  the  same  to  the  Mississippi  River,  and  south  to  where  the  Mississippi 
joins  the  Illinois,  and  here  we  are  confronted  by  the  first  North  Shore  real  estate 
deal,  when  we  find  that  Murray's  transaction  involved  all  the  land  north,  as  far  as 


96 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS  —  PAST    AND     PRESENT 

the  present  site  of  Waukegan.     And  five  shillings  (one  dollar  and  a  quarter)  together 
with  a  small  amount  of  merchandise  was  the  consideration! 

The  treaty  of  Greenville,  August  3,  1795,  eventually  disposed  of  this  claim, 
and  a  piece  of  land,  six  miles  square,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Chicago  River,  emptying 
into  the  southwest  end  of  Lake  Michigan,  and  where  a  French  fort  had  formerly 
stood,  was  ceded  by  the  Indians  to  the  United  States  Government.  There  are  three 
treaties  particularly  interesting  to  the  North  Shore  dwellers.  By  the  treaty  of  Saint 
Louis,  August  24,  1816 — four  years  after  the  Fort  Dearborn  massacre  as  well  as  the 
year  of  its  rebuilding — twenty  miles  of  the  Lake  front,  now  immediately  south  of 
Evanston,  as  well  as  a  great  adjacent  territory  lying  west  and  south,  was  ceded  by 
the  Indians.  Its  northern  boundary  was  defined  by  that  old  street,  which  for  years 
bore  the  title  of  "Indian  Boundary,"  and  which,  unfortunately,  has  been  robbed 
of  its  historic  as  well  as  romantic  interest  by  the  municipal  authorities  changing  it 
to  "Rogers  Avenue."  The  Indian  retained  his  right  to  hunt  and  fish  within  the 
tract  of  land,  defined  as  "eleven  miles  north  and  ten  miles  south  of  the  mouth  of 
the  Chicago  River,  so  long  as  it  may  continue  the  property  of  the  United  States." 
By  the  treaty  of  Prairie  du  Chien  the  Lake  front,  from  what  is  now  Kenilworth, 
to  Indian  Boundary,  Rogers  Park,  and  including  the  present  site  of  Wilmette  and 
Evanston  with  land  west  of  the  same,  was  ceded  by  the  Indians  on  July  29,  1829. 

The  final  treaty  of  Chicago,  September  20,  1833,  when  the  Pottawattomies, 
numbering  some  five  thousand,  ceded  all  that  remained  of  their  lands  in  Illinois 
and  Wisconsin,  was  consummated  on  the  North  Shore.  In  a  book  dedicated  to 
Washington  Irving,  and  published  in  London,  in  1835,  the  scene  of  this  final  yielding 
is  graphically  described  by  an  eye  witness,  in  the  person  of  Charles  J.  Latrobe, 
who  accompanied  Mr.  Irving  on  his  tour  over  the  prairies,  and  whom  the  latter 
describes  as  "a  man  of  a  thousand  occupations;  a  botanist,  a  geologist,  a  hunter 
of  beetles  and  butterflies,  a  musical  amateur,  a  sketcher  of  no  mean  pretensions, 
in  short,  a  complete  virtuoso;  added  to  which,  he  was  very  indefatigable,  if  not 
always,  a  very  successful  sportsman."  Mr.  Latrobe  writes: 

"When  within  five  miles  of  Chicago  we  came  to  the  first  Indian  encampment. 
Five  thousand  Indians  were  said  to  be  collected  around  this  little  upstart  village. 
We  found  the  village  on  our  arrival  crowded  to  excess,  and  we  procured,  with  great 
difficulty,  a  small  apartment,  comfortless  and  noisy,  from  its  close  proximity  to 
others,  but  quite  as  good  as  we  could  have  hoped  for.  The  Pottawattomies  were 
encamped  on  all  sides — on  the  level  prairie  beyond  the  scattered  village,  beneath 
the  shelter  of  the  low  woods  on  the  side  of  the  small  river,  or  to  the  leeward  of  the 
sandhills,  near  the  beach  of  the  Lake.  A  preliminary  council  had  been  held  some 
days  before  our  arrival.  The  principal  commissioners  had  opened  it,  as  we  learned, 
by  stating,  that  'as  their  great  father  in  Washington  had  heard  they  wished  to  sell 
their  land,  he  had  sent  commissioners  to  treat  with  them.'  The  Indians  promptly 
answered,  'that  the  great  father  in  Washington  must  have  seen  a  bad  bird  which 
had  told  him  a  lie,  for  that,  far  from  wishing  to  sell  their  land,  they  wished  to  keep 
it.'  The  commissioner,  nothing  daunted,  replied:  'That,  nevertheless,  as  they  had 
come  together  for  a  council,  they  must  take  the  matter  into  consultation.'  He 
then  explained  to  them  promptly  the  wishes  and  intentions  of  their  great  father, 
and  asked  their  opinion  thereon.  Thus  pressed,  they  looked  at  the  sky,  saw  a  few 
wandering  clouds,  and  straightway  adjourned  sine  die,  'as  the  weather  is  not  clear 
enough  for  so  solemn  a  council.'  However,  as  the  treaty  had  been  opened,  provi- 
sion was  supplied  to  them  by  regular  rations;  and  the  same  night  they  had  great 
rejoicing — danced  the  war  dance  and  kept  the  eyes  and  ears  of  all  open  by  running  and 
howling  about  the  village.  Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  on  our  arrival.  Companies 
of  old  warriors  might  be  seen  smoking  under  every  bush;  arguing,  palavering 
or  pow- wowing  with  great  earnestness;  but  there  seemed  no  possibility  of  bringing 
them  to  another  council  in  a  hurry.  .  .  I  loved  to  stroll  out  toward  sunset  across 
the  river,  and  gaze  upon  the  level  horizon,  stretching  to  the  northwest  over  the 
surface  of  the  prairie,  dotted  with  innumerable  objects,  far  and  near.  Not  far  from 
the  river  lay  many  groups  of  tents,  constructed  of  coarse  canvas  blankets,  and 
surmounted  by  poles,  supporting  meat,  moccasins  and  rags.  Their  vicinity  was  always 
enlivened  by  various  painted  Indian  figures  dressed  in  the  most  gaudy  attire.  The 
interior  of  the  hovels  generally  displayed  a  confined  area,  perhaps  covered  with  a 
few  half  rotten  mats  or  shavings,  upon  which  men,  women,  children  and  baggage 
were  heaped  pell-mell.  Far  and  wide  the  grassy  prairie  teemed  with  figures;  warriors 
mounted  or  on  foot,  squaws  and  horses.  Here  a  race  between  three  or  four  Indian 
ponies,  each  carrying  a  double  rider,  whooping  and  yelling  like  fiends.  There,  a 
solitary  horseman,  with  a  long  spear,  turbaned  like  an  Arab,  scouring  along  at  full 
speed — groups  of  hobbled  horses;  Indian  dogs  and  children,  or  a  grave  conclave  of  gray 
chiefs,  seated  on  the  grass  in  consultation.  It  was  amusing  to  wind  silently  from  group 


97 


98 


PLATE  No.  99 
THE  PRESENT 
Fort  Sheridan,  26  Miles  North  of  the  Site  of  Fort  Dearborn 


99 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


to  group — here  noting  the  raised  knife,  the  sudden  drunken  brawl,  quashed  by  the 
good-natured  and  even  playful  interference  of  the  neighbors;  there  a  party  breaking 
up  their  encampment,  and  falling  with  their  little  train  of  loaded  ponies  and  wolfish 
dogs  into  the  deep,  black,  narrow  trail  running  to  the  north.  .  .  It  is  a  grievous 
thing  that  the  government  is  not  strong  handed  enough  to  put  a  stop  to  the  shameful 
and  scandalous  sale  of  whiskey  to  these  poor  miserable  wretches.  But  here  lie  casks 
of  it  for  sale  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  commissioners,  met  together  for  purposes 
which  demand  that  sobriety  should  be  maintained,  were  it  that  no  one  should  be 
able  to  lay  at  their  door  an  accusation  of  unfair  dealing  and  of  having  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  helpless  Indian  in  a  bargain,  whereby  the  people  of  the  United  States 
were  to  be  so  greatly  the  gainers.  Day  after  day  passed.  It  was  in  vain  that  the 
signal  given  from  the  fort  gave  notice  of  an  assemblage  of  chiefs  at  the  council  fire. 
Reasons  were  always  found  for  its  delay.  One  day  an  influential  chief  was  not  in 
the  way;  another,  the  sky  looked  cloudy,  and  the  Indian  never  performs  an  important 
business  except  the  sky  be  clear.  At  length,  on  September  aist,  the  Pottawattomies 
resolved  to  meet  the  commissioners.  We  were  politely  invited  to  be  present.  The 
council  fire  was  lighted  under  a  spacious,  open  shed,  on  the  green  meadows,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  from  that  on  which  the  fort  stood.  From  the  difficulty 
of  getting  all  together  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  all  assembled.  There 
might  be  twenty  or  thirty  chiefs  present,  seated  at  the  lower  end  of  the  enclosure, 
while  the  commissioners,  interpreters,  etc.,  were  at  the  upper.  The  palaver  was 
opened  by  the  principal  commissioner.  The  relative  positions  of  the  commissioners 
and  the  whites  before  the  council  fire,  and  that  of  the  red  children  of  the  forest  and 
prairie,  were  to  me  strikingly  impressive.  The  light  of  the  setting  sun  streaming 
in  under  the  council  house  fell  full  on  the  countenances  of  the  former,  as  they  faced 
west — while  the  pale  light  of  the  east,  hardly  illuminated  the  dark  and  painted 
lineaments  of  the  poor  Indians,  whose  souls  evidently  clave  to  their  birthright. 
.  .  .  Even  though  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  their  removal,  my  heart  bled  for 
them  in  their  desolation  and  decline.  Ignorant  and  degraded  as  they  may  have 
been  in  their  original  state,  their  degradation  is  now  tenfold,  after  years  of  inter- 
course with  the  whites;  and  their  speedy  disappearance  from  the  earth  appears  as 
certain  as  though  it  were  accomplished.  .  .  Even  if  he  had  the  will,  the  power 
would  be  wanting  for  the  Indian  to  keep  his  territory,  and  that  the  business  of 
arranging  the  terms  of  an  Indian  treaty,  whatever  it  might  have  been,  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  while  the  Indian  tribes  had  not,  as  now,  thrown  aside  the  rude  but 
vigorous  intellectual  character  which  distinguished  many  among  them,  now  lies 
between  the  various  traders,  agents,  creditors  and  half-breeds  of  the  tribes,  on  whom 
custom  and  necessity  have  made  the  degraded  chief  a  dependent  of  the  govern- 
ment agents.  Before  we  left  Chicago  on  the  twenty-fifth,  three  or  four  days  later, 
the  treaty  with  the  Pottawattomies  was  concluded — the  commissioners  putting 
their  hands,  and  the  assembled  chiefs  their  paws,  to  the  same." 

Space  forbids  complete  citation  of  this  entertaining  narrative,  but  sufficient  has 
been  quoted  to  put  the  reader  in  touch  with  the  pathetic  drama  enacted  on  the 
North  Shore  less  than  a  century  ago.  Over  the  trails,  many  of  which  are  now 
clearly  defined  highways,  passed  the  Indian.  What  a  commingling  of  distress  and 
of  doubt  must  have  taken  possession  of  his  soul!  Was  it  the  will  of  his  "Kitche- 
manito" — this  prerogative  exercised  by  his  "great  father"  at  Washington?  To  his 
right  are  the  wonderful  waters,  of  which  his  canoe,  many  a  time,  has  been  the  play- 
thing, and  in  which  he  loved  to  sink  his  net,  to  again  draw  it  upward  with  its  finny 
feast — and  the  incoming  wavelets  sound  as  a  dirge  to  his  distraught  understanding. 
The  trail  leads  him  into  the  woodlands,  from  whence  he  has  obtained  materials  for 
building  his  canoe — and  now  the  silver  birches  seem  to  extend  their  graceful  branches 
in  farewell,  while  the  whispering  winds  make  threnetic  music,  the  like  of  which  he 
has  never  before  heard.  On  his  left  is  the  fair,  far-reaching  prairie,  over  which  he 
has  roamed  and  hunted — a  king  in  his  own  right!  Was  he  conscious  of  having  sold 
his  birthright  for  a  "mess  of  pottage?"  We  shall  never  know.  But  he,  and  those 
of  his  kind,  cherished  resentment  of  the  white  man's  invasion  of  his  territory  until 
it  found  culmination  in  the  "year  of  our  hundred  years,"  at  the  Custer  massacre. 
After  which  there  was  no  quarter  shown  the  Indian. 

8        @        8        8 

As  in  every  section  of  America,  the  Indian's  departure  from  any  particular 
locality,  or  his  confinement  within  the  reservation  restrictions,  meant  a  further 
settlement  of  the  country.  Confidence  took  possession  of  the  homeseekers,  not 
only  of  those  in  America  itself,  but  in  lands  across  the  sea,  and  the  tide  of  immigra- 
tion now  began  to  flow  westward,  until  the  growth  of  the  city  of  Chicago  became 
phenomenal.  It  had  its  reverses  in  the  form  of  flood,  fire  and  panic,  as  well  as  in 


100 


101 


Courtesy  Mrs.  B.  A.  Squires  PLATE  No.  101 

HOMESTEAD  OF  THE  LATE  ROBERT  R.  CLARK 

(Built  in  1859) 

Intersection  Halsted  and  Clark  Streets,  Chicago 


PLATE  No.  102 


THE  LAKE  VIEW  HOUSE 

(Permission  Mr.  James  J.  Wilson  and  Chicago  Historical  Society) 


102 


HIGHWAYS    AND    BYWAYS  —  PAST    AND    PRESENT 

epidemics  of  disease;  but  the  inspiration  to  accomplish  always  remained.  Skies, 
beclouded  at  times,  but  more  generally  beneficent;  the  inland  sea  at  its  feet,  waiting 
the  moment  when  the  hulls  of  brig,  schooner  and  propeller  should,  in  turn,  plough 
or  churn  its  waters  in  fair  competition  for  the  commerce  that  must  eventually  come 
this  way;  boundless  prairies  to  the  west  and  south,  awaiting  the  turn  of  the  plow 
and  the  skill  of  the  husbandman;  undulating  woodlands,  and  forests  north,  in  which 
might  nestle  some  of  the  fairest  of  homes.  All  followed  in  due  course,  after  the 
significant  treaty,  disposing  of  the  Indians — the  Pottawattomies — familiar  to  this 
neighborhood. 

The  Great  (everything  is  associated  with  this  adjective  in  Chicago)  Fire  desolated 
the  North  Side  as  far  as  Fullerton  Avenue,  while  before  that  period  (1871)  many 
charming  country  homes  were  snuggled  in  among  the  woods,  in  and  around  Lake 
View.  One  of  these  has  historical  significance,  as  it  played  its  part  as  a  refuge  to 
many  who  had  been  rendered  homeless  by  the  dire  catastrophe  that  had  practically 
wiped  out  the  whole  city.  To  this  home,  built  in  1859,  by  the  late  Robert  R.  Clark — 
afterward  police  commissioner  in  Lake  View — came  the  sufferers  from  the  North 
Side.  The  latter  was  the  distinguishing  appellation  of  that  portion  of  the  city, 
extending  beyond  the  river  to  the  north — the  designation,  "North  Shore,"  is  (of 
later  origin.  The  house  to  which  we  have  reference  is  still  in  existence  on  North 
Halsted  Street,  at  the  intersection  of  Clark  Street.  In  any  vehicle  that  could  be 
procured,  but  mostly  on  foot,  came  the  refugees.  The  house  was  commodious,  and 
its  hospitality  was  extended  until  its  walls  fairly  bulged,  while  its  park-like  setting, 
of  some  sixteen  acres,  assumed  the  appearance  of  a  vast  camp,  where  tents  or  any- 
thing that  might  be  utilized  as  an  equivalent  were  erected  for  temporary  shelter. 
Through  cheery  vistas  in  the  forest-growth  eastward  Mr.  Clark's  residence  then 
commanding  an  uninterrupted  view,  was  seen  the  shimmering  surface  of  the  Lake, 
and  the  victims  of  the  dire  catastrophe  took  heart  of  grace  and  breathed  "I  Will." 

There  was  also  a  hotel,  called  the  Lake  View  House,  having  been  opened  on 
July  4,  1854,  occupying  a  site  at  the  northwest  corner  of  what  is  now  designated 
Grace  Street  and  Sheridan  Road.  This  had  been  built  by  James  H.  Rees  and  Elisha 
E.  Huntley,  and  was,  without  doubt,  the  first  hotel  erected  in  close  proximity  to 
the  Lake,  and  to  demonstrate  that  the  North  Shore  was  the  locality,  par  excellence, 
as  a  summer  abiding  place.  This  hostelry,  undoubtedly  sheltered  sufferers  from 
the  fire.  It  passed  through  many  vicissitudes,  until  the  year  1890,  and  then  was 
torn  down,  and,  like  the  Indian  before  it,  gave  way  to  the  onward  march  of  progress. 

No  one  seems  to  really  know  when  the  stretches  of  desirable  land  to  the  north 
of  the  city  took  unto  themselves  the  inclusive  and  exclusive  dignity  of  being  addressed 
as  the  "North  Shore."  This  designation  has  for  some  long  time  past,  however, 
been  coveted  as  a  desirable  prefix,  not  only  to  real  estate,  but  to  commercial 
affairs  generally,  all  clinging  to  it  as  to  a  talisman  from  which  prosperity  is  bound  to 
come.  While  the  designation,  "North  Shore,"  contains  a  charm,  not  easily  put 
into  words,  by  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a  home — be  it  a  humble  or  a  more  pre- 
tentious structure — in  this  vicinity.  The  winds,  either  gentle  or  otherwise,  from 
both  Lake  and  prairie,  have  chanted  or  thundered  paeans  in  its  favor,  until,  hehold! 
The  North  Shore  extends  anywhere  from  three  to  six  miles  west  of  the  body  of 
water,  which  first  suggested  "shore,"  the  ubiquitous  dealer  in  real  estate,  undoubtedly 
supplying  the  prefix.  And  along  this  magic  trail  the  city  has  culled  some  of  its 
fairest  additions  toward  a  Greater  Chicago — its  northern  limits  now  touching  elbow 
with  the  beautiful  Evanston. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  western  shore  of  the  Lake,  from  the  early  part  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  became  an  important  highway  between  Chicago  portage  and  Green 
Bay  and  Mackinac,  and  for  nearly  a  century  and  a  half  Chicago  portage  maintained 
its  position  as  a  desirable  gateway  for  canoes  to  the  water  system  of  Illinois.  It 
does  not  require  much  of  an  imagination  to  picture  the  narrow  canoes,  sharp  of 
stern  and  bow,  made  of  layers  of  birchbark  or  of  skin,  stretched  over  a  frail  frame- 
work, either  skimming  the  surface  of,  or  doing  battle  with,  the  wind-swept  waters 
of  the  Lake,  and  propelled  by  the  expert  and  vigorous  stroke  of  the  Canadian  voyageur 
to  the  tune  of  his  merry  chanson.  He  was  ever  merry;  this  swarthy-faced  individual, 
accustomed  as  he  was  to  privation  and  toil,  to  danger,  as  well  as  to  extreme  hard- 
ship and  isolation.  On  his  lip  was  ever  a  smile,  a  song,  or  a  quip.  He  played  his 
part  well  in  beguiling  the  weary  hours  of  travel  under  conditions  of  which  we,  in 
this  twentieth  century,  can  form  no  conception.  The  engage"  of  missionary  and  of 
hunter  and  of  trader  was  much  of  the  same  order,  capable,  faithful,  fearless  and  cheerful. 

In  a  procession  pictured  in  the  imagination  passes  in  review  Indian,  mis- 
sionary— Jesuit  and  Re"collet  —  explorer,  hunter,  trader,  voyageur,  adown  the 
western  shore  of  the  Lake  whose  charm  lies  in  its  varied  moods,  never  looking  today 
as  it  did  yesterday,  but  at  most  times  a  glorious  mirror  in  which  is  reflected  the 


103 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


azure  face  of  the  heavens.  This  interesting  company  saw  the  weathered  and  cor- 
rugated bluffs,  or  the  low-lying  dunes,  upon  which  we  stand  today,  with  varied 
interests;  but  not  one — not  even  he  from  the  environment  of  a  highly  civilized  and 
romantic  nation — ever  dreamed  of  the  standard  of  our  present  evolution! 

The  beach  is  of  import,  also,  for  the  stones  and  pebbles  yielded  by  the  Lake, 
provided  material  for  the  implements  and  weapons  used  by  the  Indian,  even  in 
an  era  of  which  we  have  no  record.  Such  a  beach  as  that  extending  from  the  foot 
of  Columbia  Avenue,  Rogers  Park,  without  doubt  afforded  site  for  a  workshop 
for  the  native  artisan,  skilled  in  the  manufacture  of  such  utensils  and  weapons. 
Later,  his  pale-faced  brother,  in  the  same  neighborhood,  utilized  like  material  in 
rearing  an  entire  structure — well  proportioned  and  artistic  of  design;  the  beach 
stones  serving  his  purpose,  admirably,  as  building  material.  The  aboriginal  never 
discovered  the  subtle  lights,  the  exquisite  colorings,  of  which  the  surface  of  these 
stones  is  susceptible,  when  massed  together  in  a  wall.  That  was  left  for  the  appre- 
ciation of  his  white  brother,  only  a  few  of  whom,  unfortunately,  realize  the  adapta- 
bility of  this  material  to  artistic  and  individual  residence  structures. 

But  let  us  now  turn  our  attention  inland,  toward  that  which  remains  of  the 
ancient  forest,  grove  and  woodland,  along  this  same  North  Shore.  Here,  extending 
near  and  far,  were  the  native  wigwams,  grouped  in  villages,  and,  connected  by  trails — 
those  well-defined  byways  over  which  the  softly  shod  moccasined  feet  trod,  in  the 
long  ago.  O  mutable  waters  of  our  lovely  inland  sea!  O  many-hued  stones  and 
pebbles  of  our  North  Shore  beach!  O  scarred  bluff  and  wind-swept  dune;  forest 
oak  and  silver  birch!  If  speech  were  only  thine!  Silent  witnesses  of  the  past,  yet 
bearing  indisputable  evidence  whereby  the  student,  the  archaeologist  may  build 
for  our  instruction  and  edification!  But  many  mysteries  must  remain  unsolved. 

Over  which  particular  trail  to  the  north,  and  along  our  shore  fled  the  fearless 
and  wounded  Tonty?  The  roots  of  the  wild  onion,  with  difficulty  torn  from  the 
frozen  earth,  and  the  acorns,  bushels  of  which  we  may  yet  gather  in  these  North 
Shore  woods,  his  only  diet!  Did  the  so-called  Indian  trees,  one  or  two  of  which  we 
still  find  in  this  vicinity,  but  which  are  fast  disappearing,  lend  their  aid  in  his  guid- 
ance through  the  forest?  Probably  we  shall  never  know  for  certainty  which  trail 
he  chose.  Those  curious  looking  Indian  trees,  which  have  the  appearance  of  being 
bent  and  fastened  down,  the  elbow  part,  in  course  of  time,  taking  root  and  sprouting 
up  beside  the  parent  stem,  a  separate  yet  united  offshoot.  They  were  the  Indian's 
signposts,  marking  the  direction  of  the  trail  in  the  intricate  forest.  Many  of  these 
queer  trees,  principally  of  the  white  oak  variety,  bear  evidence  of  having  thus  stood 

for  a  century  or  more. 

CJ          ®  d          d 

It  is  of  interest  to  note  the  various  periods  in  which  individual  dwellers,  with 
unbounded  faith  in  its  future,  united  together  in  platting  and  recording  each  suburb 
as  a  village.  The  first  to  receive  this  honor  was  Port  Clinton,  now  a  part  of  High- 
land Park,  platted  and  recorded  in  1850.  Evanston  followed  in  1854;  Lake  Forest 
in  1857;  Highland  Park,  1869;  Wilmette,  1871;  Rogers  Park,  1872,  Winnetka,  1873; 
Glencoe,  1873;  Gilbert  Hubbard's  Subdivision,  now  known  as  Hubbard  Woods,  1874; 
Argyle  Park,  1884;  Edgewater,  1887;  Kenilworth,  1890,  with  the  Kenilworth  Company's 
addition  in  1892.  Argyle  Park,  the  two  Edgewaters  and  Rogers  Park  are  now  part 
of  the  city  of  Chicago.  Edgewater's  founder  was  Mr.  J.  Lewis  Cochran.  He  sub- 
divided 350  acres,  putting  in  street  improvements  and  building  some  three  hundred 
houses.  It  required  not  only  a  large  amount  of  capital,  but  unbounded  faith  in 
the  future.  The  only  transportation  was  the  Evanston  branch  of  the  Chicago, 
Milwaukee  &  St.  Paul  R.  R.,  with  terminus  at  the  Union  Depot.  In  1893,  the 
electric  surface  road  was  opened.  Many  of  us  recall  the  delight  with  which  we 
hailed  this  buzzing  innovator,  whose  bumblebeeish  vibrations  were  as  music  to  the 
ears  of  the  long-suffering  "better  transportation"  advocate.  Then  the  "trolley- 
parties"  with  which  the  road  favored  its  patrons!  We  recall  how  the  single  track, 
interspersed  here  and  there  with  convenient  sidings,  pushed  through  byways,  tangled 
and  overgrown  with  brushwood  and  trees.  In  the  open  car,  on  a  summer  evening, 
this  ride  was  particularly  enjoyable,  for  trees  and  bushes  reaching  out  on  either  side 
swished  against  the  invader  in  musical  protest,  while  the  air  was  fragrant  with  woodsy 
sweets,  and,  between  whiles,  the  Lake  might  be  seen  under  the  silvered  sheen  of  moon- 
light. Now  the  Evanston  Division  of  the  Northwestern  Elevated  carries  a  host  of 
patrons  over  the  original  C.  M.  &  St.  P.  tracks. 

While  on  this  subject  of  transportation,  a  word  for  the  enterprise  of  Chicago's 
first  railroad  (1848),  now  generally  designated  as  the  Chicago  &  North- Western. 
It  has  passed  through  so  many  vicissitudes  that  its  evolution  into  the  road  of  today 
reads  like  romance.  Witness  now  its  finely  equipped  Milwaukee  Division,  for  this 
has  been  a  power  in  the  development  of  the  North  Shore  suburbs  and  towns.  Its 


104 


HIGHWAYS        AND         BYWAYS     —      PAST        AND         PRESENT 

fine  embankments  and  subways,  its  artistic  stations  in  an  environment  of  parkway 
and  gardens,  have  all  helped  toward  evolution  from  the  country  village,  with  its 
primitive  methods,  to  the  fair  and  progressive  suburbs  of  the  city  and  the  prosperous 
towns  and  cities  beyond. 

"In  no  section  so  near  the  center  of  the  city,"  said  Mr.  Albert  G.  Wheeler,  in 
conversation  with  the  writer,  "can  be  found  such  desirable  territory  for  an  exclusive 
residence  district  as  on  the  mile  wide  strip,  extending  from  Argyle  Park  along  the 
North  Shore.  It  is  absolutely  free  from  factories,  noise  and  smoke."  And  he  has 
demonstrated  his  faith  in  this  expressed  belief  by  erecting  one  of  the  finest  resi- 
dences to  be  found  within  its  limits. 

8883 

Rogers  Park,  whose  northern  boundary  forms  the  city  limits,  has  also  been 
benefited  by  its  enterprising  subdividers  and  home-builders.  One  of  the  pioneers 
in  this  particular  is  Mr.  Franklin  H.  Doland.  In  1885  he  purchased  sixteen  acres 
in  this  vicinity,  built  his  residence — at  that  time  the  most  costly  structure  in  Rogers 
Park — and  after  removing  here  with  his  family,  purchased  another  twenty-three 
acres.  Mr.  Doland  was  also  the  pioneer  of  cement  and  stone  sidewalks,  as  well  as 
of  the  plan  of  arranging  avenues  on  either  side  of  the  street.  In  his  subdivisions 
he  built  about  four  miles  of  sidewalk  and  planted  over  four  thousand  trees.  Many 
of  the  exquisitely  shaded  streets  of  the  northern  portion  of  the  suburb  owe  their 
origin,  not  only  to  the  order  in  planting,  but  to  the  science  in  trimming,  exercised 
by  Mr.  Doland 's  thought  for  the  future.  There  is  no  more  beautiful  part  of  the 
suburb  than  Kenilworth  Avenue,  extending  from  Perry  Avenue  westward  to  Clark 
Street,  with  its  tall  elms,  shading,  yet  never  intruding  upon  residence  or  sidewalk. 
Mr.  John  M.  Carlson  has  also  done  much  as  a  home-builder.  His  enterprises  have 
been  more  in  the  direction  of  the  less  pretentious  class  of  homes,  and,  as  such,  a  need 
was  met;  convenience  and  practicability  being  the  first  consideration,  and  such  plan- 
ning has  brought  forth  good  results.  To  the  north,  in  the  locality  of  Rogers  Park, 
known  as  Birchwood,  Mr.  Charles  H.  Thompson  has  been  the  magician  under  whose 
wand  have  arisen  many  very  artistic  and  individual  residences,  none  of  which  awaits 
longer  than  the  getting  rid  of  the  workmen  for  the  coming  of  the  occupant  and  owner. 

Before  streets  were  opened  and  before  subdivisions  were  in  course  of  progress 
the  byways  leading  to  the  Lake,  particularly  east  of  the  C.  M.  &  St.  P.  tracks — 
Sheridan  Road  then  being  little  more  than  a  trail — the  woodlands  were  rich  in  flower 
growth.  The  hepatica,  the  violet  and  a  host  of  other  sweet  blossoms,  together  with 
a  veritable  riot  of  roses,  made  the  months  of  May  and  June  a  delight  in  this  par- 
ticular section.  The  cucumber  vine,  with  its  delicate  lace-like  beauty,  vied  with 
woodbine,  wild  grape  and  bittersweet  in  gracefully  draping  each  defect  of  shattered 
and  fallen  treegrowth.  These  same  charming  artists  of  the  forest  persisted  in  veil- 
ing the  real  estate  signs,  as  if  in  protest  at  their  intrusion.  The  stately  elder  with 
its  broad  umbels  of  cream-colored  and  white  blossoms,  followed  by  the  rich  purple 
and  red  fruit,  imparted  to  the  byways  an  ever-varying  touch  of  form  and  hue.  The 
great  charm  of  the  Rogers  Park  woodlands,  however,  was  its  silver  birch  growth, 
the  "lady  birch"  as  it  is  designated  by  some  authorities.  Tenderest  touches  of 
green  splashed  with  yellow  in  the  spring;  their  columns  of  silver  imparting  a  striking 
note  of  beauty  in  the  dense  and  shadowy  byways  of  summer;  while  autumn  changed 
their  delicate  foliage  to  veritable  flakes  of  gold,  and  my  Lady  Birch  then  declared 
herself  Queen  of  the  Woodlands!  In  the  winter  they  assumed  a  rare  individuality, 
standing  like  pillars  of  light  in  purpled  shadows,  and  outvieing  the  snow-blanketed 
earth  in  their  brilliancy.  Oh!  how  radiant  they  appeared  when  caught  in  the  slant- 
ing rays  of  a  rose-colored  sunset!  And  when  Old  Sol  arose  from  his  bed  on  the 
eastern  horizon  of  the  Lake,  how  tenderly  mysterious  they  became,  quivering  with 
something  akin  to  the  emotion  of  a  messenger  who  has  something  surprising  to 
impart.  You  dear  old  birch  trees!  Why  was  speech  denied  you ?  Our  distinguished 
New  England  poet  immortalized  thee — 

"Give  me  of  your  bark, 
O  Birch-Tree!" 

"Lay  aside  your  cloak,  O  birch-tree! 
Lay  aside  your  white-skin  wrapper, 
For  the  summer-time  is  coming, 
And  the  sun  is  warm  in  heaven, 
And  you  need  no  white-skin  wrapper!" 
Thus  aloud  cried  Hiawatha. 

There  were  many  "Hiawathas,"  before  the  coming  of  the  white  man,  in  the 
birchwoods  on  the  site  of  what  is  now  called  Rogers  Park,  busy  building  canoes  from 
the  material  at  hand.  In  a  few  instances  the  birch  tree  has  been  coaxed  to  remain, 
well  cared  for  on  private  property.  But,  as  a  rule,  they  resented  the  onward  march 


105 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


of  civilization,  and,  like  the  Indian  who  loved  them,  after  having  bravely  faced  new 
and  strange  conditions,  at  last  submitted  to  the  inevitable.  Rogers  Park  should 
have  been  named  "Birchwcod,  for  its  central  and  southern  portion  was  rich  in 
groves  of  these  beautiful  trees,  and  the  exclusive  designation  of  its  northern  portion 
is  not  in  keeping  with  the  truth  of  its  former  natural  environment. 

In  1848,  Mr.  Phillip  Rogers,  after  whom  the  suburb  is  named,  purchased  from 
the  government  a  large  tract  containing  2800  acres,  which  extended  from  the  Lake 
to  Jefferson,  its  southern  boundary  being  Sunnyside  Avenue,  and  its  northern  desig- 
nation "Indian  Boundary,"  or  what  is  now  called  Rogers  Avenue.  Mr.  Rogers 
paid  $1.25  per  acre,  and  disposed  of  it  or  left  it  to  his  heirs  as  acre  property.  One 
hundred  acres  in  the  western  portion  of  this  original  tract,  which  for  some  years 
has  been  known  as  the  Schmedtgen  estate,  has  been  recently  sold  for  $1000  per  acre. 
Rogers  Park,  unfortunately,  did  not,  until  quite  recently,  set  aside  any  land  for 
park  purposes. 

In  September,  1895,  J.  Harrison  White,  in  connection  with  his  already  established 
business  as  a  publisher  of  medical  journals,  removed  the  office  of  these  publications 
to  Rogers  Park,  and  here,  in  conjunction  with  his  wife,  Marian  A.  White,  issued  a 
weekly  paper  known  as  the  "North  Shore  Suburban,"  in  the  interests  of  the  suburbs 
designated  the  "North  Shore."  Mr.  White  was  an  experienced  newspaper  man, 
and  Mrs.  White  already  a  writer  of  acknowledged  ability.  Fearlessly  they  handled 
the  questions  of  public  improvements,  and  one  of  the  earliest  editorials,  from  which 
quotation  is  made,  will  show  the  spirit  of  the  publication,  as  well  as  the  condition 
of  the  suburb  at  that  time,  in  contrast  with  what  it  is  at  present. 

Editorial  from  ' '  Nortli  Shore  Suburban,"  published  "at  Rogers  Park,  October 
4,  1895.  and  headed  "Improvement  Committee  Body  Needed:" 

"It  is  evident  that  Rogers  Park  is  in  need  of  a  Committee  on  Improvements. 
If  some  of  our  leading  men  would  only  band  together  for  this  purpose  we  should 
not  remain  in  the  sort  of  jaytown  condition.  Our  representatives  live  too  far  from 
us,  and  we  are  too  far  away  from  the  rest  of  the  city  fathers  for  them  to  keep  a 
watchful  care  of  our  interests;  so  between  the  two  we  are  about  in  the  same  sort 
of  unfinished  condition,  with  regard  to  the  care  of  our  streets,  as  when  we  dropped 
our  tools  and  hurrahed  for  annexation.  A  committee  whose  business  it  would  be 
to  look  after  all  vexatious  annoyances,  such  as  uneven  sidewalks,  ploughed  up  instead 
of  paved  streets;  the  extermination  of  the  all  too  friendly  bur  that  sticketh  closer 
than  a  brother;  the  destruction  of  the  festive  ragweed  and  other  weeds  that  obstruct 
the  pathway — even  on  cemented  ways;  the  removal  of  garbage;  the  littering  of  the 
streets,  etc.,  together  with  many  more  nuisances  than  we  are  able  to  enumerate, 
could  do  much  by  giving  a  little  time  toward  the  rapid  improvement  of  this  portion 
of  the  city." 

Editorials  similar  in  tone  followed  until  October  23,  1896,  and  on  November  24 
of  that  year  the  Rogers  Park  Improvement  Association  sprang  into  existence,  with 
Professor  Leach  as  president:  J.  I.  Ennis,  secretary,  and  James  J.  Barbour,  treasurer. 
They  were  three  active,  energetic  and  enthusiastic  workers,  and  to  these  and  others, 
the  pioneers  of  needed  improvements  and  the  correction  of  abuses,  Rogers  Park 
owes  much. 

The  North  Shore  Park  District,  organized  May  15,  1900,  with  five  commissioners, 
L.  G.  Kirkland,  F.  H.  Doland,  C.  L.  Benson,  R.  W.  Vasey  and  J.  I.  Ennis,  also 
received  its  first  impetus  from  the  "North  Shore  Suburban."  Mr.  Kirkland  was 
the  first  president,  and  Mr.  J.  Fred  McGuire  the  first  secretary  of  this  second  sig- 
nificant improvement  association,  and  the  territory  embraced  all  of  Rogers  Park 
between  Clark  Street  and  Lake  Michigan,  and  between  Indian  Boundary  and  Devon 
Avenue.  There  is  a  strip  of  land  on  the  Lake  front,  extending  half  a  block  north 
and  south  of  Farwell  Avenue,  which  is  now  under  improvement  for  park  purposes. 
Rogers  Park  is  a  fitting  site  for  the  study  of  the  landscape  gardener,  and  in  recent 
years  Mr.  A.  Setterberg  has  done  much  toward  suggesting  landscape  art.  He  has 
had  much  experience,  loves  trees,  and  delights  in  preserving  the  natural  growth  in 
the  residence  districts,  so  by  judicious  cutting  out  and  pruning  he  makes  this  natural 
growth  subservient  to  his  own  immediate  plans  and  adjuncts  to  an  artistic  whole. 

s      &      &      e 

The  farther  north  one  travels  the  higher  the  shore  line  and  the  more  varied 
the  contour  of  the  land,  and  the  more  vigorous  the  forest  growth.  Evanston  is  a 
beautiful  city,  ideal  in  its  preservation  of  the  forest  trees  and  in  its  system  of  well- 
paved  and  neatly  kept  thoroughfares.  The  stranger  is  impressed  with  the  fact  that 
each  individual  Evanstonian  takes  a  personal  pride  in  the  neat  appearance  of  his 
city.  There  are  many  beautiful  homes  here;  many  dear,  old-fashioned  structures, 
as  well  as  those  of  more  modern  design  and  imposing  appearance;  but  all  in  an 


106 


HIGHWAYS        AND         BYWAYS     —      PAST        AND 


PRESENT 


environment  of  emerald  lawn,  graceful  shrub,  clinging  vine  and  stately  trees.  The 
immediate  Lake  front  has  been  preserved  for  park  purposes,  considerable  land  having 
been  redeemed  from  the  Lake  itself;  the  famous  Sheridan  Road,  as  a  rule,  forming 
the  western  boundary  of  this  most  perfect  system  of  devoting  a  choice  stretch  of 
land  to  the  public  good.  This  highway,  which  extends  for  thirty  miles  northward 
from  Chicago — it  being  a  part  of  the  latter's  boulevard  system — was  conceived  by 
an  Evanstonian,  the  late  Volney  W.  Foster.  Evanston's  beginnings  center  in  the 
history  of  its  University,  560  acres  being  purchased  by  the  trustees  in  1854,  for  the 
purpose  of  developing  this  higher  class  education,  and  the  growth  of  the  university 
is,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  development  of  the  city  itself.  Founded  in  love  and  in 
sincerity,  is  it  wonder  that  Evanston  should  later  become  known  as  the  "classic" 
city  of  the  West?  It  received  its  name  in  honor  of  Dr.  John  Evans,  who  took  a 
very  active  part  in  securing  the  site  for  the  University.  Ten  students  in  a  frame 
building  in  1855!  Over  four  thousand  in  handsome  brick  and  stone  edifices  in  1909! 


Courtesy  Mr.  Frank  R.  Grover  PLATE  No.  103 

North  Shore  Residence  of  Antoine  Ouilmette  and  Family  (1828-1844) 

From  Water  Color  Drawing  by  Mr.  Charles  P.  Westerfield 

The  highways  and  byways  of  the  past  in  Evanston  are  of  unusual  interest, 
and  its  Historical  Society  has  been  active  in  perpetuating  memories  of  the  native 
people  that  roamed  at  will  through  its  superb  forest  environment,  hunting  the  deer 
or  other  animals  then  familiar  to  its  vicinity.  Besides  the  ever-present  trail,  the 
natural  highway  of  the  Indian,  has,  as  in  other  places  along  the  North  Shore,  been 
appropriated  by  the  white  man,  and  converted  into  well-paved  streets  and  boule- 
vards, along  which  the  automobile  has  taken  right  of  way;  while  Indian  mounds 
and  graves  have  been  found  in  many  localities  within  the  boundary  of  the  city, 
and  frequently  on  sites  now  occupied  by  one  or  more  of  the  University  buildings 
themselves,  or  by  private  residences.  Within  two  miles  of  its  present  city  limits, 


107 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


the  good  Father  Pinet,  in  1696,  had  his  "Mission  of  the  Guardian  Angel"  among 
the  Miami  Indians,  and  here,  in  1699,  he  was  visited  by  Saint  Cosme  and  others, 
with  Henry  de  Tonty  as  guide  and  protector,  while  on  their  way  to  the  Illinois 
country,  via  the  Chicago  portage. 

3         g         g         g 

Wilmette  takes  its  name  from  the  wife  of  Antoine  Ouilmette,  a  Frenchman, 
who  married  Archange,  a  Pottawattomie  maiden.  Ouilmette  was  one  of  the  first 
white  settlers  in  Chicago  occupying  one  of  the  four  cabins  that  constituted  the 
settlement  of  Chicago,  in  1803.  There  were  born  to  the  Ouilmettes  eight  children, 
the  names  of  whom  appear  in  the  several  affidavits,  deeds  and  documents  relating 
to  the  title  to  the  reservation,  upon  the  site  of  which  the  greater  portion  of  Wil- 
mette, as  well  as  a  part  of  Evanston,  now  stands.  Ouilmette's  marriage  to  Archange, 
the  Pottawattomie,  is  historical,  for  it  is  said  to  be  the  first  North  Shore  wedding 
of  which  there  is  any  record.  The  wedding  took  place  at  Gross  Point  in  1796. 
Ouilmette's  daughter,  Elizabeth,  was  twice  married.  Her  first  husband  was  Michael 
Welch,  who  has  the  honor  of  being  designated  not  only  the  "first  Irishman"  in 
Chicago,  but  the  first  of  his  nationality  on  the  Xorth  Shore.  His  marriage  with 
Elizabeth  Ouilmette  took  place  on  May  n,  1830,  and  in  a  log  cabin  that  stood  until 
1903  on  the  east  side  of  Sheridan  Road,  two  blocks  north  of  the  Kenilworth  water 
tower.  Fortunately,  through  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Frank  R.  Grover  of  Evanston, 
a  photograph  was  taken  of  this  old  historic  hut  before  it  was  removed.  There  is  a 
fine  forest  growth  in  Wilmette,  much  of  which  is  still  in  a  good  state  of  preservation. 
Cultivation  and  trimming  will  do  much  to  keep  these  trees  in  condition,  whereby 
the  suburban  dweller  may  be  benefited.  We  have  heard  of  houses  being  built  to 
accommodate  the  tree  growth,  and  it  is  not  a  bad  plan,  providing  there  is  nothing 
freakish  in  the  design.  However,  much  of  the  wildwood  growth,  in  the  form  of 
flowers  and  hedges  of  roses,  may  be  preserved  by  the  settler  on  his  own  particular 
lot.  For  many  of  them  take  kindly  to  being  transplanted,  as  the  writer  knows  from 
personal  experience. 

The  new  North  Shore  channel  of  the  Chicago  Sanitary  District  has  its  entrance 
from  Lake  Michigan  in  Wilmette,  a  short  distance  north  of  the  Evanston  limits, 
where  a  harbor  has  been  built  and  where  the  commissioners  have  created  from  the 
material  taken  from  the  ditch  a  park  on  its  north  bank.  The  water  flows  into  the 
canal  at  the  rate  of  1000  cubic  feet  per  second,  which  is  of  sufficient  force  to  dilute 
all  sewage  that  may  be  turned  into  it.  Great  possibilities  for  beautifying  the  banks 
of  this  canal  through  the  suburban  residence  sections  is  evident,  and  will,  in  all 
probability,  be  considered  seriously  in  some  well  organized  association,  such  as  our 
Park  Boards.  The  right  of  way  of  the  channel  is  600  feet  in  width;  the  canal  is 
from  26  to  30  feet  in  width  at  bottom,  with  a  i3o-feet  width  at  top,  and  13  feet  of 
depth,  and  the  approximate  cost  is  $2,500,000. 

About  fifteen  miles  north  of  Chicago  is  Kenilworth,  which  has  a  marked  indi- 
viduality. Here  was  opportunity  for  landscape  artist  and  architect  to  work  in 
unison,  and  here,  too,  it  being  the  youngest  of  the  North  Shore  settlements,  each 
could  profit  by  the  advantages  or  disadvantages  of  the  planning  and  building  of 
the  earlier  communities;  and  to  their  credit,  be  it  recorded,  Kenilworth  stands  alone 
in  having  made  the  best  of  all  that  Nature  bestowed.  Even  Evanston,  as  well  as 
Highland  Park  and  Rogers  Park,  have  had  to  destroy  in  modern  times  that  which 
was  planned  and  builded  in  earlier  times.  Not  so  will  it  be  with  Kenilworth.  The 
entrance  to  this  lovely  home  town  is  beyond  reproach ;  its  large  fountain  and  cemented 
angles  of  streets,  together  with  its  superb  tree  growth,  suggest  a  park  of  some  mag- 
nitude and  beauty.  No  straggling  line  of  one-story  stores,  no  freaks  of  the  builder 
of  the  "railroad"  street  offend  the  eye.  The  noble  forest  growth  of  oak,  elm,  ash 
and  other  native  trees  have  been  barely  cleared  to  admit  of  residences  being  built, 
yet  all  is  in  order  and  arranged  with  artistic  taste.  The  large  trees  are  trimmed 
so  as  not  to  interfere,  their  tops  forming  a  canopy  of  varied  green  in  summer,  while 
in  winter  they  are  etched  against  the  sky  line  or  casting  athwart  the  snow-covered 
lawns  blue  and  purple  traceries,  such  as  no  artist  could  hope  to  imitate  with  any 
degree  of  success.  Nothing  had  stood  in  this  wilderness  of  forest  previous  to  its 
being  platted  as  a  desirable  residence  site,  except  the  wigwam  of  the  Indian  and 
a  solitary  log  cabin,  which  stood  on  the  bluff,  thirty-five  feet  above  the  Lake,  and  in 
which  Elizabeth  Ouilmette  was  married  to  Michael  Welch.  Well  paved  and  cleanly 
streets,  over  which  much  of  the  original  forest  growth  throws  its  grateful  shade 
and  protection,  make  of  Kenilworth  a  desirable  home  place. 

g         g         g         g 

Winnetka  is  another  ideal  site,  and  many  pretentious  homes  are  here  in  large 
grounds  and  amid  the  most  charming  environment  of  tree  and  shrubbery.  Sheridan 


108 


HIGHWAYS   AND   BYWAYS 


PAST   AND    PRESENT 


Road  takes  its  way  through  the  village  at  one  block  west  of  the  Lake.  The  northern 
portion  of  Winnetka  is  picturesquely  designed.  The  winding  thoroughfares,  with 
little  parks  ornamented  with  shrubbery  and  intersecting  the  streets  at  right  angles, 
are  delightful  surprises  to  the  tourist,  either  on  foot  or  in  a  vehicle.  The  contour 
of  the  land  is  rising  and  rolling,  and  the  outlook  on  the  Lake  a  dream.  It  was  off 
the  Winnetka  shore  that  the  ill-fated  Lady  Elgin  went  down  November  7,  1860, 
with  all  on  board.  Part  of  its  hull  is  still  visible  in  the  shallow  waters  east  of  the 
charmingly  artistic  residence  of  Mr.  Franklin  Rudolph.  Winnetka  in  summer  is 
most  beautiful,  but  in  the  autumn  it  is  gloriously  beautiful.  No  pen  can  describe, 
no  painting  convey  any  just  record  of  the  exquisite  mingling  of  colors  in  the  foliage. 
The  softened  rays  of  sunlight  twinkle  between  canopies  of  gold,  crimson  and  rare 
bronze,  while  eastward  the  waters  lie  bathed  in  an  atmosphere  of  indescribable  hue. 


Photo  by  Frank  R.  Grover 

LOG  HOUSE  AT  KENILWORTH,  BUILT  BY  JOHN  DOYLE 

Torn  down  about  1902 
(Courtesy  Chicago  Historical  Society) 


PLATE  No.  104 


Winnetka  is  said  to  be  an  Indian  word  meaning  "beautiful  place."  And  no  one 
can  deny  that  it  has  a  right  to  the  title.  The  rising  ground  in  its  northern  portion 
melts  imperceptibly  into  what  is  known  as  Hubbard  Woods,  where  there  are  many 
sequestered  homes  of  modern  architectural  lines  which  conform  to  their  picturesque 
environment.  Hubbard  Woods  was,  until  recently,  recognized  as  Lakeside — so 
named  in  1870  by  David  Gage  of  Chicago,  the  name  being  suggested  by  its  proximity 
to  the  Lake.  Before  this  it  was  named  Taylorsville,  after  the  Taylor  family,  who 
were  its  earliest  settlers.  Its  change  to  Hubbard  Woods  was  in  honor  of  Gordon  S. 
Hubbard,  who  at  one  time  owned  the  acres  comprising  this  site. 

g         8         g         g 

Glencoe  was  for  a  long  time  a  dear  old  sleepy  locality  in  which  the  homes  were 
scarcely  discernible  from  the  public  thoroughfares,  so  closely  nestled  were  they  to 
woodland  and  adorned  with  vine  growth.  Now  it  is  a  burgh  of  some  distinction  in 
the  list  of  North  Shore  towns.  The  writer  well  recalls  the  advent  of  Melville  E. 


109 


PLATE  No.  105 


INDIAN  TRAIL  TREE  AT  LAKESIDE 

(Courtesy  Chicago  Historical  Society) 


110 


HIGHWAYS        AND        BYWAYS     —     PAST       AND        PRESENT 

Stone  in  this  neighborhood.  He  was  the  first  to  advocate  improvements  along 
modern  lines,  and  built  a  charming  house  on  the  edge  of  a  ravine  facing  what  is 
now  Sheridan  Road.  This  ravine  had  to  be  bridged  before  the  building  material 
could  be  brought  there,  and  we  believe  this  was  the  first  iron  bridge  built  in  the 
vicinity,  for  other  ravines  were  bridged  with  wood,  and  many  of  these  had  been 
swept  away  by  fire.  It  was  a  great  accommodation  to  those  living  north  of  Glencoe, 
as  the  bridge  did  away  with  a  difficulty  encountered  in  driving  south.  Sheridan 
Road  in  this  vicinity  at  that  time  was  a  country  road  with  deep  and  irregular  ruts, 
hard  enough  in  summer,  but  simply  impassable  during  the  spring  and  fall,  the 
mud  being  as  sticky  as  only  a  clay  soil  can  be.  It  was  used  principally  by  farmers 
drawing  loads  of  wood,  for  "cord- wood"  was  the  principal  fuel  used  here  at  that 
time.  The  writer,  when  moving  to  Rogers  Park,  in  1893,  brought  some  of  this  fuel 
along,  and  had  a  woodpile  in  the  back  yard  for  many  a  long  day. 

There  are  now  many  handsome  residences  in  Glencoe,  as  well  as  finely  kept 
thoroughfares.  Among  the  most  striking  of  these  homes  is  that  of  Mr.  Harry  Rubens. 
It  is  so  unique  that  it  is  worth  writing  about.  It  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
lovely  park  acreage  the  writer  has  seen,  outside  of  Old  England.  You  have  to 
literally  find  the  house,  and  the  safer  plan  is  to  keep  to  the  broad  driveway  after 
you  enter  the  stone  gateway,  with  its  clock  that  chimes  musically  for  the  benefit 
of  all  Glencoe.  You  twist  and  turn,  and  become  lost  in  the  wonder  of  the  park- 
like  grounds.  Then  you  are  conscious  of  approaching  a  structure  in  keeping  with 
what  you  have  already  seen.  But  there  is  the  lily  pond,  like  a  jewel  in  a  setting! 
Hemlock,  whispering  pines,  trees  of  every  variety,  and  the  most  brilliant  bank  of 
scarlet  salvias,  while,  beyond,  a  vista  of  green  and  undulating  surface,  in  which  the 
native  growth  has  been  encouraged,  is  the  Lake,  which  on  that  particular  day,  looked 
like  a  glimpse  of  the  Rhine.  Old  Lake  Michigan  has  many  moods,  and,  on  occasion, 
it  can  assume  the  aspect  of  any  of  the  most  famous  and  lovely  waters  of  the  world. 

The  name  of  Glencoe  has  a  romantic  origin.  Mr.  W.  S.  Gurnee,  a  well-known 
citizen  of  early  Chicago,  was  smitten  by  the  charms  of  the  place,  which  suggested 
to  him  vale  and  dale  and  dell  and  dingle,  and  lastly,  "glen."  His  wife  was  a  Miss 
Coe,  and  he  gallantly  added  her  maiden  name  as  a  completion;  so  it  has  come  to 
us  as  the  pretty  title  of  Glencoe.  You  see,  in  spite  of  criticism  to  the  contrary,  there 
was  a  Chicago  man  in  the  long  ago,  who  was  romantic  as  well  as  commercial. 

3888 

It  is  nearly  twenty- five  years  since  the  writer  went  to  live  in  Ravinia,  now  a 
portion  of  Highland  Park.  Much  of  the  original  forest  growth  was  here,  particularly 
bordering  the  deep  ravines,  which  gashed  the  land  through  to  the  Lake.  A  few 
Indian  trail  trees  were  here,  too,  and  adjacent  to  the  Lake  were  sections  of  a  clearly 
defined  and  deeply  indented  trail.  The  rains  and  frosts,  as  well  as  the  dashings  ot 
the  storm-lashed  waters  below,  had  caused  the  clay  bluffs  to  wear,  until  tons  of  earth, 
with  some  of  the  finest  forest  trees  and  portions  of  this  trail,  would  slip  to  the  beach; 
or,  being  arrested  in  its  progress  by  a  part  of  some  previous  disintegration,  it  would 
settle  in  the  most  unique  fashion,  the  trees  reaching  out  horizontally  to  the  water, 
while  their  roots  remained  embedded  in  the  soil.  The  writer  was  more  than  once, 
during  the  equinoctial  gales,  a  witness  to  just  such  a  disintegration  of  the  bluff; 
at  one  time  barely  [escaping  being  buried  underneath.  A  visit  to  the  shore  on  the 
following  morning  revealed  quantities  of  sparkling  material,  having  the  appear- 
ance, to  the  uninitiated,  of  gold  ore.  Nuggets  of  it  were  carefully  gathered,  and 
the  head  of  the  household  took  the  same — being  persistently  enjoined  to  say  nothing 
about  the  "find"  to  anyone  in  the  neighborhood — to  a  Chicago  assayer.  "Only 
iron  pyrites!"  And,  with  a  genial  smile,  "Lots  of  others,  like  yourselves,  thought 
they  had  a  gold  mine  in  those  same  old  bluffs!" 

In  the  crevices  of  these  "same  old  bluffs"  grew  the  blue-fringed  gentian,  while 
upon  ledges  higher  up  were  found  stately  orange  and  red  lilies;  these  latter  were 
enhanced  in  color  when  seen  in  the  morning  sunlight.  Then  their  transparent  hues 
often  saved  them  from  the  desecrating  hand  of  the  flower  gatherer,  for  they  seemed 
to  voice  a  sentiment  of  protest;  so  for  a  long  time  they  escaped. 

In  the  shelter  of  the  forest  in  early  spring,  among  other  wildwood  flowers,  came 
the  trillium,  the  earth  being  literally  carpeted  in  a  mosaic  of  green  and  white.  Mrs. 
Harcourt  Mott,  a  most  excellent  painter  of  flowers,  now  living  in  Ravenswood,  made  these 
children  of  the  wildwoods  her  particular  study  for  years.  The  trilliums  are  passing  away; 
the  painter's  delineation  will  be  all  that  remains  of  these  delicate  and  beautiful 
denizens  of  the  North  Shore.  Much  of  this  wild  growth  takes  kindly  to  transplanting, 
if  conditions  be  about  equal.  The  writer  was  very  successful  in  planting  most 
varieties  in  a  small  grove  adjacent  to  the  home.  The  orange  lily,  however,  became 
somewhat  smaller  and  faded  in  color,  while  the  red  lily  scorned  to  be  thus  civilized, 


111 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


preferring  to  perish  in  each  experiment  for  its  transplanting.  The  ferns  in  the 
ravines  were  magnificent,  three  distinct  varieties,  and  possibly  more,  while  between 
the  shadowy  forest,  in  June,  might  be  seen  the  wild  crab  in  full  blossom,  its  fragrance 
betraying  its  whereabouts  long  before  it  came  into  view.  The  wild  hawthorn  was 
also  a  native  here.  It  was  not  quite  as  showy  and  as  fragrant  as  its  kin  of  the 
English  woods,  which  was  imported  and  planted  in  the  garden,  where  it  smiled  in 
serene  delight,  feeling  its  own  superiority  for  two  seasons,  but  succumbing  to  winter 
severity  in  the  very  presence  of  its  virile  cousins  standing  knee-deep  in  snow  and 
unafraid  of  frost. 

Who  would  have  thought  at  that  time,  only  a  few  years  ago,  that  electricity 
would  solve  the  problem  of  rapid  transportation  for  Ravinia,  and  other  places? 
Who  could  have  conceived  of  such  an  ideal  pleasure  park  at  that  time,  where  the 
works  of  the  great  masters  would  be  rendered  by  organizations  like  the  Thomas 
and  Damrosch  orchestras?  We  have  heard  MacDowell's  "Indian  Suite"  by  the 
Thomas  Orchestra  in  this  environment  of  forest  and  Lake.  Would  that  MacDowell 
himself  might  have  heard  it  here  ere  he  passed  away!  Ravinia  Park  should  be 
preserved.  Surely  there  is  wealth  enough  along  the  North  Shore  to  prevent  its 
being  violated  in  any  other  form. 


PLATE  No.  106 
TRILLIUMS 
After  a  Painting  by  Mrs.  Harcourt  Mott 

The  city  of  Highland  Park  is  but  three  miles  north  of  Ravinia,  and  it  was  but 
natural  that  the  former  should  desire  to  annex  the  same.  It  was  better  for  Ravinia, 
anyhow.  Its  elevation  suggested  the  part  of  its  name  "Highland,"  and  its  natural 
park-like  appearance  the  rest.  It  was  so  named  by  the  Port  Clinton  Land  Com- 
pany, who  owned  the  original  townsite.  There  are  delightful  ravines  running  through 
this  city,  so  that  in  the  early  years  of  settlement  there  were  good  drainage  facilities. 
Most  of  the  homes,  in  its  earliest  history,  stood  in  park-like  grounds,  and  although 
the  city  is  very  much  modernized,  the  disposition  is  ever  toward  fine  tree  growth, 
shapely  shrubbery  and  gardens  with  a  revel  of  bloom.  There  is  much  of  historic 
interest  associated  with  the  site  of  Highland  Park.  Here,  at  one  time,  was  a  large 
Indian  village,  and  the  old,  old  trail,  close  to  the  Lake  Shore,  and  of  which  mention 
has  been  made  in  the  chapter  on  Ravinia,  also  passed  through  this  territory,  and 
undoubtedly  close  to  the  Lake,  taking  into  consideration  that  much  of  it  has  been 
washed  away,  and  in  some  places  no  trace  left.  In  all  probability  the  Moraine 
hotel,  that  handsome  and  dignified  structure  on  the  Lake  front,  is  either  on  the 
site,  or  in  close  proximity  to  this  old  Indian  byway.  Can  you  conceive  of  anything 
more  in  contrast  to  the  old  Lake  view  hotel  than  this  later  structure,  one  having 
played  its  part,  and  the  other  now  within  the  glare  of  the  footlights  for  public  favor, 
and  both  involved  in  the  story  of  the  North  Shore  ?  Both  a  credit  to  their  founders 
and  managers.  Not  a  vestige  of  the  original  remains  of  the  early  North  Shore 


112 


PLATE  No.  107 


VIEWS    IN    RAVINIA    AND    HIGHLAND    PARK 


113 


BOOK   OF   THE   NORTH   SHORE 


hotel,  but  the  Moraine  is  yet  invested  with  the  charm  of  woodland  beauty  and 
ravines;  with  highways  and  byways  in  the  form  of  well-paved  thoroughfares  leading 
to  and  from  this  ideal  hostelry  which  has  made  Highland  Park  famous  the  wide 
world  over. 

The  Green  Bay  Road,  the  first  extended  highway  running  north  from  Chicago, 
and  laid  out  in  1835  under  the  direction  of  General  Scott  of  the  United  States  Army, 
and  just  west  of  the  Highland  Park  depot,  was  also  a  time-honored  trail.  One  of 
the  early  Catholic  churches,  "St.  Mary's  of  the  Woods,"  was  also  in  this  vicinity 
on  the  Green  Bay  Road  about  half  way  between  Highland  Park  and  Ravinia.  It 
was  erected  by  the  Catholic  families  in  that  neighborhood  in  1846,  and  was  torn 
down  in  1893.  While  living  in  Ravinia  the  writer  heard  many  traditions  in 


PLATE  No.  108 
"St.  Mary's  of  the  Woods,"  Green  Bay  Road  Near  Highland  Park 

(Built  1846.     Torn  down  1893) 

connection  with  this  little  log  church,  that  stood  alone  and  forlorn  in  appearance  with 
a  tiny  wooden  cross  on  its  apex,  and  one  of  rude  structure,  but  standing  some  thirty 
feet  high  in  the  churchyard.  It  was  one  of  the  show  places  to  which  we  took  our 
friends,  believing  at  that  time  that  it  was  in  some  mysterious  manner  associated 
with  Marquette  or  with  Father  Pinet.  Now,  however,  we  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  Mr.  Frank  R.  Grover,  the  most  indefatigable  ferreter  out  of  Indian 
facts  and  traditions  of  this  North  Shore,  is  correct  in  his  story  of  "St.  Mary's  of 
the  Woods.  The  church  was  first  built  on  a  temporary  site,  then  a  Mr.  J.  Reckten- 
wald,  a  German  farmer,  donated  the  land  for  the  later  and  permanent  site,  and 
the  logs  were  taken  down  and  the  church  rebuilt  of  the  same  logs.  The  large  cross 
was  of  black  walnut,  made  at  Gross  Point,  hauled  to  its  destination  by  a  team  of 
oxen,  and  erected  with  imposing  ceremonies  on  August  15,  1853.  Father  Weyinger, 
a  Catholic  missionary,  it  is  said,  made  the  cross,  officiating  at  the  actual  erection  of 
the  same  by  the  congregation  assembled  in  the  churchyard  during  the  time  that 
Father  Forthmann,  the  pastor,  was  celebrating  mass  inside  the  church.  All  of 
which  proves  that  there  were  many  devout  Catholics  residing  in  this  vicinity  at 
that  time,  and  that  they  were  ready,  as  pioneer  devotees  of  their  faith,  to  establish 
that  which  should  appeal  to  all.  "St.  Mary's  of  the  Woods,"  seen  in  its  condition 
of  decay,  by  daylight,  was  weird  and  impressive  enough,  but  seen  under  the  soften- 
ing influence  of  moonlight,  with  a  grove  of  forest  trees  in  the  distant  background, 
and  from  whence  issued  the  mournful  note  of  the  whip-poor-will,  or  the  more  ominous 
hoot  of  the  night  owl,  the  Past  became  a  force  in  impelling  one  toward  accomplish- 
ment in  the  Present;  for  today  is  ours,  and  the  highways  and  byways  of  yesterday 
must  be  our  spur  for  today,  as  tomorrow  "cheats  us  all." 


114 


HIGHWAYS        AND          BYWAYS  —  PAST        AND          PRESENT 


Historic  Illinois,  Parrish. 

Jesuit  Relations,  Thwaite. 

Early  Voyages  Mississippi,  Shea. 

Story  of  Chicago,  Kirkland. 

History  Cook  County,  Illinois,  Andreas. 

Indian  Landmarks  North  Shore,  Grover. 

Antoine  Ouilmette,  Grover. 

Father  Pierre  Francois  Pinet,  Grover. 


The  Author  also  desires  to  express  appreciation  of  the  helpful  courtesy  shown 
by  the  Chicago  and  Evanston  Historical  Societies,  and  to  the  Chicago  &  North- 
Western  Railway  Co.  for  the  loan  of  several  historical  illustrations. 


115 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


HOMES  AND  GARDENS 


PLATE    NO. 

Abbey,  C.  P 58 

Adolphus,  Wolfe 15 

Alexander,  H.  E 51 

Anderson,  Fred  A 21 

Barbour,  James  J 57 

Bemm,  Frederick  O 33 

Bosch,  Charles 68,  69 

Brado,  Verne  L 45 

Brink,  A.  P 50 

Brunell,  F.  H 75 

Burson,  W.  W 60 

Bryan,  F.  W 38,  39 

Bryan,  Dr.  John  C 16 

Carter,  Lincoln  J 17 

Carlson,  A 10,  i : 

Case,  Frank  A 13 

Decker,  Alfred 31 

Doland,  F.  H 37 

Eddy,  George  D 12 

Ennis,  Callistus  S 49 

Fahrney,  Wm.  H 7 

Fessenden,  Benjamin  A 90 

Fowler,  E.  L 73 

Garvy,  Dr.  A.  Cosmas 28 

Gately,  John 14 

Getty,  F.  W 3° 

Grosvenor,  Dr.  W.  F 20 

Gunder,  S.  H 6 

Haegele   J.  C 44 

Hammond,  L.  P 62 

Haskins,  R.  C 46 

Herbert,  Mrs.  K.  E 27 

Hippach,  L.  A 47 

Hollister,  H.  L 54,  55 

Houghton,  E.  W 36 

Hurd,  Harry  B 43 

Huston,  Ward  T 34 

Jaekel,  W 64 

Johnson,  A.   M S 


PLATE  NO. 

Johnson,  Dr.  C.  N 9 

Linthicum,  C.  C 72 

Mather,  R.  H 48 

McKay,  Henry    H 41 

McMullin,  Frank  R 92 

Middendorf,  Geo.  N 23 

Moeng,  E.  D.  (entrance) Front   Cover 

Moeng,  E.  D 32 

Montgomery,  F.  B 22 

Moraine,  The 89 

O'Meara,  James  J 53 

Pearson,  W.  B 8 

Perkins,  H.  F 24 

Peters,  Jos.  G 25 

Pond,  Walter  M 74 

Rubens,  Harry 85,  86 

Rudolph,  Franklin 83,  84 

Schultz,  Henry  W 77 

Schulze,  Paul 78 

Serrell,  W.  L 81 

Shattock,  Henry  E 40 

Shepherd,  E.  S 4 

Spoor,  George  K 19 

Stafford,  E.  H 76 

Starck,  P.  A 26 

Steele,  Frederick  Morgan 87,  88 

Steffens,  O.  M 59 

Stolp,  Dr.  Rufus  B 79 

Stone,  George  A 52 

Sullivan,  Capt.  D 29 

Thompson,  C.  H 56 

Thorn,  John  C 63 

Thurber,  Seymour  J 35 

Tritschler,  C.  F 67 

Uhl,  Edward  H 42 

Walker,  Stephen  L 6 1 

Weinand,  Mrs.  John  N 18 

Wheeler,  Albert  G i,  2,  3 

Wilson,  Louis  T 80 


MISCELLANEOUS 


Clark,  Robert  R.,  Homestead 101 

E vanston.  Views  of 71 

Fort  Dearborn  in  1803 98 

Fort  Sheridan 99 

Highland  Park,  Views  of 107 

Indian  Trail  Tree 105 

Lake  Michigan — Foot  Columbia  Ave 66 

Lake  Michigan — Foot  Devon  Ave 65 

Lake  Michigan — Foot  Glenlake  Ave 70 

Lake  View  House 102 

La  Salle,  Portrait  of 97 


Log  House  at  Kenilworth 104 

Loyola  Academy 95,  96 

Marquette  at  Chicago  River 94 

Marquette's  Signature 94 

Old  Homestead,  Ravinia 91 

Ouilmette,  Antoine,  Residence  of 103 

Pioneer  Residence 82 

Ravinia,   Views  of 107 

St.  Mary's  of  the  Woods 108 

Trilliums 106 

Wolf's   Point,   Chicago,    1832 101 


PAGE 
HIGHWAYS  AND  BYWAYS,  PAST  AND  PRESENT 87-114 


116 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS  URBANA 
917.731W58B  C001 

BOOK  OF  THE  NORTH  SHORE;  HOMES.  GARDENS. 


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